Chasing Abel
by The-MarmaladeCat1
Summary: Tres has a new mission: Abel.
1. Opening Night

**A/N:** Will develop into TresxAbel at some point so watch out.

_ ooOooOooOoo_

_Chasing Abel 1  
_

Catherina's hand was cold.

Tres did not frown, such a facial expression had a high probability of causing his mistress further undue emotional distress – a possibility he would strive to avoid at all costs. He was however most careful to ensure that the long sleeve of her robe was pulled down fully over her slender fingers, far enough down to afford some protection against the chill of the night time chambers.

She was an almost immaterial weight in his arms as he lifted her gently from her seat at the writing desk and cradled her securely against his chest. Moving carefully, his steps smooth and measured to ensure that he did not jolt her with his stride, he carried her through the study and into her bedchamber where he placed her softly down on the edge of the bed. She sighed and smiled, a worn expression that did nothing to erase the fatigue from her features. Tres straightened, his eyes still resting on her pale face, and awaited further instructions.

Catherina winced and massaged her temple with the fingers of one hand and Tres blinked, running a swift visual evaluation of her condition.

"Catherina-sama," he began. "Status please."

She made a soft noise of acknowledgement in her throat before drawing in a deep, shaking breath. "It will pass, Tres-kun. It's just a funny turn. It will not last long, I simply need to rest. Please, help me with my robe."

He complied, helping her lift her arms out of the heavy green bed robe and discreetly aiding her to straighten her sleep shift beneath before laying the robe aside on the nearby chair. He held the thick blankets back for her as she gingerly swung her legs up into the bed and then, storing the time in his internal memory, flicked a pill out of the bottle on the cabinet and poured her a glass of water to take it with. She grasped the glass carefully in both hands, swallowing the pill with the offhand ease of long practice and leaned her head back against the headboard.

Tres considered briefly. It would be inappropriate to remove the glass from her hands without her first offering it back to him, but he felt it advisable that she prepare herself immediately for sleep. It was not his place to command her, but today he had noted the marked paleness of her skin and the subtle indications that she was having trouble moving without pain. It was inadvisable for her to increase her discomfort and potentially prolong it by refusing to rest.

"Milady. It would be advisable for you to enter a sleep state as soon as possible in order to maximise the efficiency of your recuperation."

Tres stared down at her and allowed his features to fall into a slight frown for her eyes, implying his concern without unduly disturbing her. She smiled up at him and laughed quietly.

"Dear, Tres-kun," she replied softly. "What would I do without you?"

"You would continue to survive, Lady Sforza. The Vatican would ensure that your health remained cared for and the members of AX would provide any additional services that you required."

She stared at him then for long moments that stretched unbroken away into silence. Had he been fully human, Tres perhaps would have sought to fill the void with words of denial or comfort, but he was not and so he simply waited for her to provide him with his next course of action.

Catherina's expression slipped slowly from amusement to something sad and wistful, and she slipped the monocle from her eye absentmindedly, setting it down on the bedside cabinet.

"We are all blessed, Tres-kun, in that we have each other. Despite our differences. We all have to take care of each other in this world, because there are so many things out there that desire only our failing."

She raised her eyes to his and he met her gaze evenly. "If ever anything happens to me, you must seek to ensure that they are cared for. None of them must ever feel that they are alone again. I will not permit it."

It was not his place to question her. He could see the fatigue in her body and deduce the fragility of mental state that her constant pain had induced, but even so he believed her rational, if undergoing heightened emotional responses.

"Affirmative."

"Promise me."

"Affirmative. It is a "promise," Catherina-sama."

She smiled at him and only her eyes betrayed her utter exhaustion. "And you must remember too," she said. "You must not be alone either."

He hesitated but briefly, a pause so small that it was unlikely her human senses could have perceived it even had she been operating at full functionality.

"Affirmative."

He watched her settle back into her pillows and waited until he was sure she would issue no further commands to him, before he initialised his guard sub-routine and returned quietly to his post at the door where he remained for the rest of the night.

oOo

If asked, it would have been unlikely that Tres could have provided an answer to the question: "But _why_?" There are parts of Tres, incorrectly labelled as small and insignificant, that are truly human. Human flesh and human DNA and, although the Inquisition would vehemently deny him the right, human _spirit_.

Even so, he was not entirely sure where it all began and he was only half-aware of _why_.

Subroutines and data-filters, algorithms and master data-pools all combining and reconfiguring and being influenced, sorted, sub-processed and analysed until eventually, stacked and tagged, they were placed into a subroutine and queued for routine initialisation. And on the day that they _were_ triggered, it quickly became apparent that there was an immediate and serious lack of data to support that initialisation.

There were no set parameters, no sound theories, no backlog of previous experience to delve into and work from. In short, he didn't have a clue.

And really, even if it wasn't the real reason _why_, it was certainly the _when_ and thus is probably the _where_ in which it all started.

oOo

The last vestiges of gunfire faded away into silence, dying echoes scurrying between the pews and disappearing into the shadows hanging in the corners of the abbey. At the far end of the room, the figure of Kresnik 02 fell back into human form, feet impacting soundlessly before the altar as he descended once more to frail humanity.

Tres hefted his heavy pistols and stalked warily up the central aisle towards the huddled figure of Father Nightroad. The priest was on his knees, crouched over the slumped bodies of two bloodless vampire corpses. Tres made his way up to his team mate's side and stopped, staring down at the two targets. A man and a woman, their hair long and dark, falling in tangled knots around their faces where she rested her head upon his chest and his dead fingers tangled in the mass of hair at her scalp. They looked obscenely peaceful for the violence and horror of their deaths at the hands of a parasitic master predator.

"Targets dispatched. Mission complete."

Abel's pale skin was flushed from the exhilaration of their blood and Tres watched him carefully as the other priest reached out a gloved hand to gently stroke the cheek of the woman. The fingertips of his glove were gone, torn out by the claws of his Kresnik form and Tres could already anticipate the complaints that would follow as the other priest was forced to fix them by hand rather than buy new ones. Abel never had any money left, and Tres was the cause of the greatest of AX's bills. Between them, they were the bane of the Vatican's accounts department.

Abel withdrew his hand sharply and with a sudden movement rose swiftly to his feet. Tres, stood at his shoulder, was forced to take a step back or risk Abel bumping into him. Abel remained staring down at the two dead vampires, his sharp features pulled into a tight expression that Tres could not read.

"All they wanted was to be together, Tres-kun. Well. Now they have that."

The bitterness in Abel's voice registered in Tres' tone-recognition bank but the appropriate response turned up blank. Instead, he remained watching his partner, waiting for further input. Abel, as ever, did not disappoint.

"It's just too sad."

Abel ran one hand through the messy wisps of his bangs and shook his head in frustration. "I'm going back to the hotel."

Tres' head turned, tracking the other priest as he plodded, head bowed, down the aisle. His eyes caught in the light thrown out by the candelabra set amongst the pews and glowed hellish red for a brief instance before fading back to black. "Affirmative," he replied.

Abel pushed his way through the great double doors at the far end of the room and vanished out into the night, and Tres turned his attention back to the bodies at his feet. They would have to be disposed of before the morning. Clipping his guns back into place on his wrists, he set to work.

oOo

Tres made it back to the hotel some time after midnight. Abel was apparently already in bed, but following procedure, Tres let himself into their rooms and went directly to the other priest's room to report.

"Father Nightroad."

There was no response from Abel's room and Tres waited patiently before calling out again. It would not do to disturb his highly strung companion without due warning. Abel had indicated previously a heightened need for privacy during sleeping hours and Tres was loathe to impinge upon that understanding. He waited for two minutes and thirty seconds before opening the door to Abel's room and stepping carefully inside.

Abel was not there.

The bed stood with covers thrown back and the doors leading out to the balcony were ajar, the lace curtains whispering around them in the breeze. Scanning the room for threats and finding none, Tres padded quickly across to the window and moved out onto the balcony.

Abel was already looking in his direction when he stepped outside, pale blue eyes watching carefully. He looked intent and very much awake, even dressed as he was in nightgown and robe. Tres cocked his head on one side. "Status report, Father Nightroad. Why did you not answer the door?"

Abel made a small sound in his throat before replying quietly, "Ah, forgive me, Tres-kun. I simply did not hear you before."

Tres nodded. "Status, Father Nightroad?"

The tall priest held his gaze for a few moments before turning away to look out over the city below. His long ponytail streamed around his shoulders in the breeze and he caught at it with one hand, pulling it down securely around his neck. "As well as can be expected, Tres-kun."

Tres waited, but the other man did not provide any extra information. Concluding that nothing further would be forthcoming, the cyborg launched into his own report. "Targets eliminated at 9.57pm, dispatch of targets 09alpha and 09beta completed 10.45pm. Mission concluded."

Abel remained staring out over the city, his folded arms resting on the railing of the balcony. "Where did you go after that?" he asked.

"I continued to ensure that the area was secure before returning, Father Nightroad."

"Ah."

Tres studied the other priest's face closely. It was unusual for him to still be up at this hour, especially after a mission complete. But then, he had been forced to use his Kresnik form upon the two rogue vampires. Tres speculated that it must have caused an imbalance in his body chemistry resulting in this restlessness.

"Father Nightroad, are you well?"

In the city below the revellers were just starting to make their way home through the streets. Abel appeared to be following their progress with interest, his eyes sharp and focussed. Predatory. Tres blinked.

"Father Nightroad. Respond, please."

"I killed two people tonight, Tres-kun, and I couldn't stop myself."

Tres hesitated, searching his memory for all the data he possessed on Abel's Kresnik form. From experience of the father's abilities and responses, the form could become difficult for Abel to control if he allowed himself to get out of hand. In all of Tres' years working alongside Abel however, it had never occurred.

"Clarify please."

Abel smiled ruefully, a bitter wistfulness that lent a maturity to his usually playful expression. "The blood, Tres-kun. It is a horrible addiction. Once tasted it is almost impossible to stop."

"Targets 09alpha and 09beta were marked for deletion, Father Nightroad. Had you not disposed of them, they would have been executed by the Inquisition upon our return to the Vatican."

"Yes…I know. I simply…" Abel fell silent, staring down at the streetlamps below. Suddenly something crossed his face and he lifted his head to seek Tres' gaze. "It was at the end, when the man, he tried to protect her. Push her behind him even as I took their blood from them." Abel's voice was quiet and low and Tres had to adjust his hearing by thirty percent to pick out his words. "He tried to distract me away from her even as they were both falling. Such dedication, such…love. I could see the desperation in him to protect her, even then. I…and she tried to hold him even at the end. And I…I did not stop. Even for their love."

Abel fell silent and his eyes lost their fevered look, falling from Tres' own to a point somewhere on the cyborg's chest. The flush was gone from his cheeks, stolen away by the chill of the night breeze and its loss painted his skin an alabaster paleness that looked anything but merely human. Some spark of intuition, a fortuitous leap of understanding, came over Tres then and he tilted his head to one side.

"Father Nightroad. Your actions were in keeping with the dictates of our orders from the Duchess. There has been no failing upon your part. Your actions will be viewed as commendable."

Abel frowned and sighed softly. "That is what concerns me," he replied quietly.

"Clarify please."

But Tres received no reply to his questioning. Instead Abel merely shook his head and said, "Ne, Father. I will be going to bed now. I think it would be a good idea for me to get some sleep after all."

Tres watched as the other priest pulled his arms around himself and made his way slowly back into the hotel room. Scanning the balcony quickly for possible inconsistencies with his earlier security survey, Tres followed him inside. He watched as Abel kicked off his slippers and climbed into bed, pulling the covers firmly up around his chin and turning inwards to face the wall.

He stood for a long moment, watching and waiting to see if Abel would provide further comment upon the situation before finally he judged that he had been dismissed. "Good night, Father Nightroad," he said.

Abel did not reply and after a brief pause, Tres left him and returned to his own room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	2. Mission Start

**AN:- **Thank you so much to those who reviewed, it was lovely to hear your comments! I hope you enjoy the second part too, please tell me what you think.

oOooOooOo

_Chasing Abel 2_

The room was silent around them. Catherina lifted the teacup to her lips and took a sip. The chime of china on china as she set it down again was a fine ring of sound that set the teeth of the one sat before her on edge.

"Abel, you're brooding."

He winced and looked down, eyes fixed firmly on the coil of the pattern in the carpet. His hands were resting on his knees, obscured by the heavy cuffs of his overcoat, but she could tell from the pinching of the fabric that he held them clenched.

"What is it, old friend?" she asked softly.

He did not look up; those beautiful eyes which she so adored remained trained downwards, ever stubborn in his melancholy. Catherina sighed softly and her lips hardened. "If you will not speak of it, how am I to help you?"

The reaction that brought was immediate. His eyes lifted and somewhere in his gaze an emotion she could not read flickered and was gone, hidden swiftly by the placatory laugh he gave her. "Aah…Catherina-sama! It is nothing, I was simply thinking on how long it is until supper. I have not eaten for four hours you know, and I was getting hungry…"

She stared at him, unimpressed. He prattled on, unperturbed, describing in great detail the entire menu selection there had been at the hotel that he and Tres had been booked into and just how disappointed he had been to be unable to sample any of it due to a lack of funds.

She wished that just once, he would be honest with her.

"Between them, they killed eighteen people, Abel-kun. They drank from them before sacrificing them to a devil-figure they called the Star of Dawn. They were cultists, and they were insane. Cruel. She chose her victims for their youth and he chose them for their dedication to God. They could not have been redeemed. Your actions removed a threat to the citizenry that could not be tolerated. Even the Empire was searching for those two."

The smile had not left his lips, but it had faded and what remained of it looked false, kept in place by politeness alone. He let out a hissing breath between his teeth and straightened in his seat, his eyes on one of the portraits that decorated her study.

"It was an unfortunate incident, but it's okay now, Catherina-sama. Everything's fine now."

He smiled at her and it was a brittle, carefully crafted expression that she did not believe for an instant. How he worried her. Her precious, oldest friend with his sin and his grief and his charming, childish foolery. For all her concern, she knew that look. There would be no breaking through that defence and she knew better than to press him. The harder she pushed the further from her he would withdraw.

"I see."

She watched his smile and the way he turned up its intensity just for her, like a shield to reflect her concern right back at her. No arguing with someone that set in his ways, with the rising expanse of the centuries behind his every look. She did not, _quite_, sigh again.

"Well, then. I am sure that if you hurry you will find that you are in time for the last serving of the evening meal."

His expression brightened impossibly further and he almost leapt up from his seat.

"Yes! I ought to hurry! I don't want the sisters to forget about me and start clearing away before I get there…"

Catherina nodded and waved him away, watching him hurry from the room with almost a spring in his step at the thought of a meal. Or perhaps it was merely the prospect of escaping her questioning that had raised his spirits. She wondered if that could ever be classed as a good thing.

The door closed behind him with a soft click and she paused for a heartbeat to simply stare at its blankness before reaching over and pouring herself another cup of tea. She added the milk first, just as Abel had taught her all those years ago – it was his fault she drank the beverage – and then slipped in two lumps of sugar. Staring down into the cup she watched as the liquid swirled between the sides in an ever-dying circle.

The trouble with Abel was that he never truly overcame his solitude. He'd always been on his own as she understood it, right from the very beginning of his life. Always surrounded by people that loved him and forever destined to choose to stand alone. And in Catherina's opinion that was his greatest weakness, his most insurmountable flaw. He simply could not comprehend his place in this world. Never, not even here, all these centuries later.

To stand alone was a terrible thing.

"Tres-kun."

A figure stirred from the stillness at the back of the room, moving forward to stand at her side.

"Milady."

Tres-kun," Catherina said slowly. "I have a mission for you."

oOo

Observe him, she had said. Tres stood in the entrance to the hall and looked over the dining tables to where Abel was busying himself with a plate full of dinner. Two nuns hovered at his shoulder, blushing and fussing over him and Tres watched as Abel alternatively took a mouthful of food and then charmed one of them with a word of oh-so-innocent praise.

In the space between Catherina's briefing and the time it had taken Tres to make his way to the dining hall, the ever resourceful Abel had managed to acquire the broad outline of what appeared to be a three course meal. On the table in front of him there was bread and from the shape of the bowl, soup, as well as some kind of meat and vegetable and what appeared to be a fluffy extravagant pudding of some kind. Tres predicted with a high level of certainty that it had been the other priest's canny use of facial expression and vocal tone that had acquired him such a generous meal at so far past the normal dinner hour.

He observed as the two women at the father's shoulders took turns asking him about the meal and noted the way that Abel kept them entertained with chatter whilst still managing to cram food into his mouth. It was a skill that Tres had seen the Father use many times in the past to greater or lesser success. Very often it seemed to get him into more trouble than Tres considered it worth.

Talk to him, she had said. The cyborg considered. If he was to engage the father in any sort of meaningful conversation, the like of which the Duchess wished for him to pursue, then he would have to remove the two females present. They would only be a distraction to Abel. The removal of elements from a scene had never been troublesome to Tres, in fact he was well aware of the effect his presence had on many of the clergy who were not part of AX. They tended to vacate his vicinity without him even having to ask.

With that thought in mind, he approached the table.

The two women looked up as his shadow fell across them and he noted the nigh imperceptible stiffening of their spines as their eyes found his. The good sisters of the holy orders of Rome did not approve of the Cardinal's robot killer, this he knew all too well and all too easily read in their eyes. He greeted them with a slight bow, as was proper, and noted the way their eyes never left his body even when they returned his bow with their own. He suspected strongly that they were suffering from subscription to the all too prevalent stories of the combat abilities he had displayed during his service to the Duchess.

"Good evening, sisters. I wish to speak privately with Father Nightroad. I recommend that you return later."

At the table Abel made a choked sound of what appeared to be discomfort of some kind and Tres frowned, peering round the sisters at the other priest.

"Is everything all right, Father Nightroad?" he asked.

Abel flapped a napkin at him and sputtered something incoherent around a mouthful of food. Tres weighed the situation and made a quick decision, "Sisters, I recommend that I care for Father Nightroad. Please return to your duties."

As Abel coughed and reached for a glass of water, the sisters hesitated and then seeing the immovable cyborg regarding them stolidly, bowed and retreated in the direction of the kitchens. Tres nodded and seated himself across from Abel, watching as the other man cleared his throat and dabbed at his face with the napkin.

"Status, Father Nightroad?"

"What did you do that for, Tres-kun? How rude of you!"

"Please explain."

"Chasing those poor sisters off like that! You can be so mean sometimes!"

Tres watched the liquid level in Abel's glass as he gesticulated with it, considering the worth of removing it from the other priest's hands as the water sloshed dangerously close to its rim. "I wished to speak to you privately, Father Nightroad. I believe that it is easier to hold conversations without outside observation. Father Nightroad, your water-"

"Oh! Er…" Abel mopped quickly at the puddle of spilled water on the table with his cuff, then tutted at the rather obvious wet patch it created on his sleeve. Hooking his sleeves up around his elbows he finally managed to settle himself again and began to dig back into his meal.

Tres watched him closely, considering. The Duchess had been very specific on one point: he was first and foremost to ensure that this latest incident with the rogue vampires was not unduly affecting the father in any way. He was to ensure that Abel was coping and if he found that he was not, he was to find a solution and put it into play. _But_, and it was a significant but, he was to ensure that the father was not aware of any such actions, for the Duchess advised him in the strictest tones, that any discovery of such intentions on his behalf by Father Nightroad would inevitably lead to his failing the mission. And Tres did not fail Catherina-sama's missions. Ever.

Abel paused, spoon halfway to his mouth and his blue eyes found Tres' and held them.

"…Is something wrong, Tres-kun?"

Tres blinked.

"You were watching me," Abel supplied helpfully. Tres returned his gaze coolly and decided to forego the usual mission initiation announcement for concern that it might jeopardise his overall success.

"Status report please, Father Nightroad."

Abel leaned forward and peered closely at him. "Is something wrong, Tres?"

"Negative, Father Nightroad."

"Well then," Abel said with a smile and pushed aside his plate, reaching for the fancy desert that sat to his left. "I thought for a second there I'd grown another head!"

Tres allowed a frown to crease his features and betray his confusion. "Why would you believe that, Father Nightroad?"

Abel laughed lightly, "Aha, just a figure of speech, nothing important!"

Tres watched as the other priest began digging into the pudding and considered his next move. He still hadn't obtained a satisfactory response to his status request, but he didn't wish to press the father and reveal his intent. At a loss, he continued to monitor Abel for outward signs of distress. The other priest appeared to be enjoying his desert immensely judging by the speed at which he was shovelling it into his mouth, and Tres concluded that if nothing else, his appetite remained sound.

In truth, without requesting that he be allowed to make a full physical examination of the other priest, Tres was somewhat at the limit of his ability to judge Abel's condition. He was not bleeding, did not appear to be hyperventilating, was not sweating excessively – in fact, the only discomfort he appeared to be at risk of was from the dried glob of icing that he had on the tip of his nose.

Tres shifted slightly and considered his options. Catherina-sama had been most adamant that Father Nightroad was concealing his concerns to his potential detriment and Tres was loathe to second-guess his mistress. She had considerably more experience over the years of the other priest and what was more, Tres trusted her to comprehend the other human better than he could. Subtly, he increased the focus in his eyes by 57 per cent and began to monitor the flutter of the pulse in Abel's neck.

Abel was usually an incredibly talkative companion, in fact at times he spoke more than any of the other AX members put together. Except when he was eating, as he was now. Then he usually contented himself with speaking through mouthfuls of food which Tres understood to be considered an impolite practice. The cyborg doubted from previous experience that Abel was minding his manners tonight just for his sake. Perhaps there _was_ something wrong with the other priest.

He decided to try one more time, at a slightly different tack, one that would offer an opportunity for Abel to expand upon any difficulties or discomforts he was silently enduring.

"Father Nightroad. You have not yet acknowledged my request for information. I have requested a status report three times. Is there a reason that you are unable to reply?"

Abel blinked at him, licked icing off his spoon and smiled.

"I'm fine, Tres-kun."

And then he dipped the spoon back into the ridiculous pink and white desert he was devouring and that was that. Tres continued to stare at the other man and, as the mound of cream and icing swiftly vanished, began to consider that maybe, just maybe, he was out of his depth.


	3. In Flight Entertainment

**AN:-** Wow, thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed! I'm not too keen on this new "reply to review" function the site has, but I am trying to reply individually when I get time. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much, and I shall continue to write the next one tomorrow evening. Please let me know what you think._  
_

* * *

_Chasing Abel 3_

"Her name is the Lady Anna, and she is the daughter of the Duke of Westbury."

There was the slightest intake of breath to mark the surprise of her listeners, and then one of them leaned forward, pale eyebrows raised. "She's from Albion?"

"Yes, indeed."

The chair creaked softly as he sat back in it again, settling himself and folding his long fingers together thoughtfully beneath his chin. "Albion has its own church, headed by their Queen. It's rare for them to seek out the Vatican's teaching. Why is this young lady so keen to come to Rome?"

Catherina flicked one eyebrow and set her teacup down in its saucer before looking back to Abel. "She wishes to pursue a life of religious devotion here in the Holy City."

Abel rubbed his thumb along his lower lip pensively, and then shrugged. "Ah, well. Perhaps this is a good thing, Catherina-sama. It could be an opportunity to strengthen the relationship between the Kingdom of Albion and Rome."

"Perhaps," Catherina replied. "If we play this the correct way."

Abel gave her a questioning look which she returned with stern severity.

"The Lady Anna is eighteen years old, and her family has no history of religious servitude. She will be the first of her line in generations to give up the privileges of her station to become a sister. It raises the question of why exactly she has chosen to serve the Church in Rome as opposed to the Church of Albion."

"Ah," said Abel with a small smile. "Perhaps it is an act of rebellion?"

"Hmm," Catherina replied, her lips thinning. "Do not take this lightly, Abel-kun. Her devotion is to be respected, and _encouraged, _but her reasoning is a source of interest to us."

Chastened, Abel laughed lightly and raised his hands in a placatory wave. "I understand, Catherina-sama. I was just thinking of how, in youth…"

He trailed off and Catherina's eyebrows drew down into the faintest of frowns.

"Indeed," was her only reply.

Abel sighed and shifted uncomfortably as the Duchess took a slow sip of her tea.

"Because of the current political climate, I want every aspect of the Lady Anna's journey to Rome, from the very outset, to your arrival here in the Vatican itself, to be carried out without hindrance or delay. Quietly, quickly and with the minimum of fuss."

"Ah. I see."

Catherina's brows pulled together in the barest of frowns. "Abel-kun, you and Tres are to fly to Albion and escort the Lady Anna to Rome."

There was a long, strained pause, during which Abel's smile passed from speculative amusement into brittle, forced politeness. Catherina's gaze did not once waver and her eyes were sad but firm. _It will do you good_, she wanted to say, _to get away for a while._

"Acknowledged."

Tres' voice, calm and measured, broke the silence and the moment was gone.

"Indeed, so be it," Abel replied softly.

oOo

The father was standing at the very edge of the landing pad, his coat whipping in the wind, when Tres found him. He jumped and gave a startled laugh when the cyborg appeared at his shoulder and Tres could not recognise the emotion that flitted through the other man's eyes and vanished swiftly behind his cheerful half-wave.

"We leave at 0800 hours, Father Nightroad," Tres said by way of greeting. "That is precisely seven minutes from now. Are you completely pre-"

"Aah!" Abel interrupted, "I asked Kate-san, we're not taking the Iron Maiden, which is a pity but I suppose it's to be expected. I would have enjoyed some time to speak with her again. I haven't sat down and spoken with Kate-san in too long…"

Tres blinked and tilted his head, waiting for Abel to pause. Satisfied that he was finished, he tried again. "I do not believe the battleship would be a suitable mode of transport for the threat level of our mission. I do not anticipate a need for its firepower, unless you have been made privy to information that I have not yet obtained, in which case I recommend strongly that you share any and all such data immediately."

Abel gave him a blank look and scraped the whipping strands of his hair out of his eyes. "No…I just thought it would be nice to speak to Kate-san again," he said quietly. He turned to look back out across the landing pad and Tres would have lost the remainder of his words to the roar of engines had it not been for his enhanced hearing.

"I would like to hear her opinion on something after all…"

"If you have a request to make of Sister Kate," Tres said, "then it would be advisable to make it once we have returned from the mission. Our transport leaves in precisely five minutes and thirty-four seconds."

"Ehhh…" Abel groused, "So very early! I barely had time for breakfast this morning and I only just managed to get the name of the ship in time. It's the Benedictus IX by the way. Very grand, I thought."

"Indeed. Are you completely pre-"

"I hope they have a restaurant on board. I'm hungry."

"The Benedictus IX is a fully equipped passenger airship, Father Nightroad. There will no doubt be catering on board. Now, I repeat, are you fully prepared for the journey?"

"What?" Abel looked blank for a moment, then smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Of course! All packed last night. I have done this before you know, Tres-kun."

"Yes, Father," Tres replied dutifully. "Now, do you have-"

"In fact, I've been travelling on airships for, well, for longer than you have at any rate! I know exactly what I'm doing! Honestly, Tres-kun!"

"I apologise if I have caused offence, Father Nightroad. However, I must confirm that you have the-"

"Well, that's okay then," Abel huffed. "After all, I am one of the more experienced members of AX. Sometimes I think everyone forgets that. Anyway, what were you saying?"

Tres waited a moment to ensure that there would be no further interruptions before continuing. "Do you have the tickets ready, Father Nightroad? We are due to board in one minute and twenty-nine seconds."

Abel paused. Tres waited silently. Laughing nervously the other man scratched at the back of his neck.

"Aaah…" he said eventually. "I thought you had them…"

Tres blinked at Abel's hopeful expression and across the way the engines of the Beneictus IX roared into life. Filing the expression under "false innocence" the cyborg turned on his heel and stalked away in search of their tickets, Abel trailing apologetically behind him.

oOo

It took no little explaining on Tres' part and much soothing of intimidated flight desk attendants by Abel, but in the end they managed to find places on the next flight out. However since this was not their original scheduled airship, there were no cabins left and the best the airline staff had been able to provide was a pair of seats on the main passenger deck.

So it was that the two Vatican emissaries found themselves pressed into two narrow seats, four rows back behind a family of three infants and two very harassed young parents. The smallest of their children, a tiny blond girl of no more than four years of age, was currently staring over the back of her chair at Tres as beside the cyborg Abel fidgeted and tried to fold his long legs into some semblance of a comfortable position. Around them, the chatter of other passengers rose like a tide punctuated intermittently by the tinny thump of someone's overloud headphones.

These were not, Tres reflected, the optimum conditions in which he would prefer to continue Catherina-sama's secret mission. He had anticipated that he would be able to maintain his monitoring of Father Nightroad's status in the relative calm of a private cabin, but the loss of the first set of tickets had ruled this out, at least on this leg of their journey. Before they left the Vatican he had enquired of the Duchess if she wished him to suspend her secret mission for the duration of their escort duty, at which she had smiled strangely at him and replied, "Of course not, Tres-kun. The mission is to be ongoing, after all. Abel may well need your careful observation more than ever in Albion."

She had simply shushed him when he requested further information, and dissatisfied, but reluctant to press her, he had bowed and accepted her silence. Considering the matter as he made his rounds that night, he had surmised that this was perhaps to be a test of his capabilities when it came to his "social programming." As such, he reasoned, it would benefit him to be prepared. He had spent the rest of the night reviewing every file he had in his memory on human interaction and psychology. Being primarily of the combat series of cyborg, there hadn't been much.

He had, however, formed some semblance of a plan. It had been his intention to make the most of the journey and initiate a further attempt to engage the father in what he understood to be referred to as "meaningful conversation." Tres did not quite comprehend the subtleties of the concept. After all, in order to have what humans considered a "typical" conversation, one was required to communicate by whatever means were suitable, and such communications invariably had meaning of some form. He did however, understand that some conversations carried more weight than others. It was, he concluded, up to him to discover the best way to ensure that his conversation with Father Nightroad also carried sufficient weight to be considered "meaningful."

Beside him, Abel tutted and pulled the folds of his coat up around the sides of his legs in an effort to give himself more room. The little girl standing staring over the back of her headrest at Tres leaned forward and settled herself more comfortably, her large, green eyes wandering over the ornate gilding of the priest's coat. Tres stared back at her evenly until her mother, noticing the child finally, pulled her back down into a sitting position with an apologetic smile.

Tres had _intended_ to engage Abel in their private cabin. He had even prepared a set of opening phrases for the occasion. They had gone something along the lines of requesting an updated status report, and after that…well, he had decided that the best solution would be to analyse the data he was presented with and work from there.

"Status report, Father Nightroad."

"Ne, Tres-kun. There's hardly any room here. My legs are getting all cramped and we've only been in the air an hour…how long is it 'til we get to London?"

Tres made a brief check against his internal clock and replied, "Thirty-seven hours, forty-five minutes and fifty-eight seconds."

Abel's resulting sigh was anything but dignified. "Ahh…so long…"

Tres cocked his head to one side, regarding the other priest through narrowed eyes. "I recommend that you take frequent breaks and stretch your legs to prevent cramping, Father Nightroad. You may find it helpful to drink plenty of fluids."

"Why, Tres," Abel said, eyebrows rising in surprise. "That's very sweet of you to think of my comfort."

"You must ensure that you are in optimum condition in order to carry out Catherina-sama's orders, Father Nightroad. Failure to protect our charge due to negligence of appropriate health measures is unacceptable."

Abel's face fell, "Oh, I see…" he said morosely.

Satisfied that Abel had understood and accepted his advice, Tres turned back to regard the back of the seat in front of him. In the cyborg's opinion, the tactic had worked well. Abel now understood the necessity of maintaining his health at full capacity, and Tres had provided him with a method of doing so. He had not argued the point, and so Tres' reasoning must have held sufficient weight to have been counted as "meaningful."

That, the cyborg reasoned, had not been as fraught with difficulty as he had been expecting. At his side, Abel had fallen silent. At the edge of his peripheral vision, Tres could just make out the expression on the other man's face. Something about the angle of the gaze and the tautness of his jaw informed Tres of a change of emotion in his companion and alert now, he turned his attention fully to unobtrusive observation.

It was a long time before Abel spoke, and when he did, he voice was low and even, devoid of its earlier light-heartedness.

"Do you think there will be trouble in Albion, Tres-kun?" he said quietly.

"Trouble, Father Nightroad?"

"Vampires. Rogue ones."

Tres considered briefly before replying. "The outline of the mission that Catherina-sama gave to us did not indicate that there would be excessive combat situations, Father Nightroad. If the need arises however, I am fully equipped to engage any hostiles that we may encounter."

Abel gave a small sigh and quirked an eyebrow briefly. "Yes, Tres, I suppose you are." He turned to regard the cyborg, and then something appeared to catch his eye. "Oh! What an adorable child!"

Tres turned his head to follow Abel's gaze and came face to face with the small girl-child staring once more over the back of her headrest. Her large green eyes were fixed on Abel's face and her tiny fingers gripped the back of her seat fiercely. Abel smiled, laughing in delight and gave her a cheerful wave. Something about the gesture obviously upset the child deeply, and Tres watched blankly as her face crumpled into a frown and tears began to fill her eyes.

The resulting wail started low, but quickly reached an ear-splitting crescendo as Father Nightroad waved his hands and tried desperately to quiet her. Tres blinked once, slowly, and adjusted his auditory sensors down by fifteen per cent.

Five minutes later and the child was still crying, her voice rising occasionally into the truly grating pitches. Beside Tres, Abel huddled mournfully in his seat, his coat pulled up around his neck and ears. "How long until we reach London, Tres…?"

Tres blinked.

"Thirty-seven hours, thirty-two minutes and sixteen seconds," he replied, and adjusted his pitch buffers to their maximum efficiency.


	4. Iques, Father Tres Iques

**_AN:_ **I'm sorry this took so long! However, to make up for it, it's an extra-long chapter this time round. :) By the way - is it Father Iques, or Father Iqus, because I've seen both - what do you think?

Ah yes, I'm trying to respond individually to each review, but I can't reach you if you don't leave me an email address or sign in. So, if you'd like a reply, leave me a way to get hold of you. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter too - please continue to tell me what you think, I love to hear your thoughts.

* * *

_Chasing Abel 4_

They touched down in London at four minutes to midnight having spent the last leg of the journey flying through storms over the English Channel. Much to the dismay of their neighbours in the surrounding seats, Abel had spent a large part of that section praying loudly for God's deliverance from the wrath of Devil-inspired weather. Tres had kept a careful note of the level of discomfort their neighbours appeared to be exhibiting and when he judged that Abel was close to inciting all-out panic amongst the rest of the passengers he had taken the other priest firmly by the arm and suggested that they go and find refreshments.

The journey to the onboard café had not been without incident. The flight crew were eager for them both to return to their seats rather than risk the terrible turbulence the airship was experiencing, and they were stopped several times along the way by concerned flight attendants. Each time Tres stood firmly in the centre of the walkway, his servomechanisms holding him steady against the lurching of the deck, whilst Abel clung to the railing, or, on one occasion while trying to avoid falling over one of the female passengers, to Tres, forcing the cyborg to hold them both steady. Blushing furiously, Abel had levered himself upright and made a grab for the railing again with both hands. Tres had explained once more to the dubious flight attendant that they really were better off on their feet, something Tres was perhaps beginning to doubt himself as he watched Abel negotiate a pot-plant with clumsy inelegance.

Nonetheless they had made it to the café without injury, although Tres suspected that the pot plant would never quite recover its former bushy glory. Finally seating themselves at a corner table, Abel wedged firmly against the wall, Tres had ordered tea – Thirteen sugars. No, ma'am, thirteen. That is correct, _thirteen._ Ma'am, please be careful not to spill, would you like a cloth, ma'am?- and brought it back to the table for his partner to consume. The cyborg had noted with interest how Abel had managed to consume the tea with something bordering on ease, despite the rocking of the airship. Filing the information away as another indication of Father Nightroad's heightened abilities, the cyborg had waited patiently for the human to finish drinking.

The interlude appeared to have calmed the worst of his companion's hysteria, and so Tres had led them both back to their seats where the other passengers stared at them, dubiously awaiting another apocalyptic outburst. It seemed however, that Tres' plan had worked and the cyborg had just shut himself down into sleep mode when he had registered an urgent prodding in his upper arm.

"Tres," Abel had said, his face paler even than normal, "Would you be so kind as to move. I think I'm going to be sick…"

Perhaps, Tres had considered as he helped the rather shaky Father Nightroad lurch to the toilets, the tea had not been quite as good an idea as he had thought.

Standing now in the blessedly unmoving airport of central London, Tres waited patiently as Abel sifted through their baggage in search of their map. It took the Father several minutes of digging before he finally pulled out a battered fold of paper and held it proudly aloft. Then, unfolding it carefully, the two priests peered closely at the faded diagram. It was sketched in the Professor's neat hand, but had suffered the burden of many year's use and careless filing by the other priest and many parts of it were hard to make out. Abel pressed his nose close to the paper, squinting down at the faded writing.

"I think it says something about a giant eye…"

Tres frowned. "It is a relic of a previous age," he said curtly and leaned over the map to point with one finger. "Our hotel is on this road, let us leave immediately."

Outside the storm was still raging and a cold, heavy, rain beat down unmercifully, making the streets glisten molten gold under the streetlamps. Abel looked up at a dark and grim sky, a frown on his face. "I don't think we have enough to cover a carriage, Tres-kun. Not if we want to ensure we have money to take the Lady Anna in one tomorrow."

Tres stepped up alongside Abel and glanced around at the street signs. "The hotel is seventeen minutes' walk away, Father Nightroad. I suggest you put the map away to prevent it from being damaged by the rain. I have already memorised the route."

Abel sighed plaintively and stepped out into the pouring rain. "One day, Tres-kun, we're going to have to persuade them to just give us an expenses tab."

"Unlikely, Father Nightroad," Tres replied and stepped out after him.

oOo

The hotel was small and clean, with reasonable rooms and a ready supply of tea and coffee provided gratis. Above all however, it was dry, a fact that Abel made the most of as he set his heavy overcoat to drip dry over the bath.

"I wonder what the Lady Anna is going to be like," he said, returning to their shared bedroom and setting the kettle to boil. He sighed as he looked down at the device heating itself slowly and shook his head. The reliance on technology here in London was far more prevalent than back in Rome. He missed the ease with which- _No!_ he ordered himself sternly. _Do not start down that road again, Abel…_

"Catherina-sama advised us that she is eighteen years of age, and the first of her family to pursue a life of religious servitude. Furthermore, she has chosen to follow the path of Catholicism, rather than the religion of her land, that of the Church of Albion," Tres replied.

"Yes," Abel mused. "And she's a Duke's daughter too. The Duke of Westbury no less."

Tres cocked his head to one side. "Do you anticipate that her bloodline will have an influence upon our mission, Father Nightroad?"

Abel made a thoughtful sound in his throat and shook his head. "The Westburys are not a particularly influential family," he replied, reaching over to pour tea as the kettle clicked to a boil. "They are somewhat diminished from previous times, and have no particular strength at court or in the House of Lords. Enough so that I would say that there will be no loss to their family if one of its daughters takes to a life of servitude. In fact, I would say that if nothing else, it may be an attempt by the family to lever itself back into a position of influence by having one of their own undertake such a radical change from the norm."

Tres listened in silence, watching as Abel stirred sugar into his tea thoughtfully. The cyborg knew better than to ask how Abel came by such knowledge, and previously when he had brought the subject up with the Duchess of Milan, she had simply shaken her head and ordered the cyborg to trust his partner. He assumed that there was more going on with the other father's background than he was to be made privy to, but, content to follow the Duchess' orders, he would simply sit back and make use of Abel's peculiar depth of knowledge until told otherwise.

"Perhaps, Father Nightroad," he said eventually, "You could attempt to obtain the information from the Lady Anna tomorrow. You are particularly skilled at gaining the confidence of strangers. She is more likely to lower her defences to you than she would be to myself."

"Tres!" Abel exclaimed. "You make it sound so…so awful!"

"I do not comprehend, Father Nightroad. That is why you have been chosen for this mission is it not?"

Abel sighed and shook his head. "Never mind, Tres. Never mind…"

oOo

The Lady Anna turned out to be a tall woman with long, dark hair and intelligent eyes that watched everyone and everything. Abel supposed that she was striking rather than beautiful, her features a touch too sharp to be called pretty. She held herself with the confidence of a young noble and her manners when she greeted them were impeccably polite. He did his best to put her at her ease, but it seemed he need not have made the effort. Lady Anna looked them both up and down, though she was careful to do so without being obvious too about it, and suggested that they all retire to the hotel's restaurant for an early lunch. Happy to allow her to take control, the two priests bowed and followed her.

The Lady Anna had brought one servant with her, an elderly woman who was quickly sent on her way back to the family home once it had been confirmed that the young woman was set for her trip to Rome. The old servant left with much barely restrained fussing over her young charge, and then the Lady Anna turned, picked up her bags and indicated for the two priests to lead the way. Abel would have offered to carry her luggage for her but suspected that she was the sort of person who would only take offence at the suggestion. Tres simply walked away.

It was a fair walk from the train station to the hotel, but the Lady Anna declined the offer of a carriage, even with the weather threatening more rain at any moment, declaring that, "A servant of God makes use of the gifts God has given her. In this case my legs!"

Abel was a little taken aback, but loathe to admit that his first thought had been to take advantage of their allowance and travel in style. He suspected privately that given time, her attitudes would change.

They reached the hotel some three quarters of an hour later, laughing and shaking off the first droplets of rain that had begun to fall. After a brief interlude to freshen up, they set themselves down at a quiet table in the restaurant, close to the window, and watched the rain turn into a downpour as they waited to order lunch.

"You must be laughing to see the old belief proved true," Lady Anna said to them, her eyes on the rain streaking the windowpane.

"Oh?" Abel replied.

"That the weather in Albion is always poor, and that it rains for nine months out of every year!"

Abel laughed in genuine amusement, "But it makes for a beautiful green land, my Lady!"

"That is incorrect, Lady Anna of Westbury," Tres interrupted. "On average there is rainfall over Albion each month of the year, with the heaviest periods being between the months of September and January. Again, on average, there is precipitation on approximately 42.2 of the days in each year."

For a long moment both the Lady Anna and Abel stared blankly at the cyborg.

Then: "How do you know that?" she said slowly. Beside her, Abel was making an expression that Tres could not identify.

"It is my duty to obtain as much information about a territory as possible before embarking upon a mission within it," the cyborg replied. Beside the Lady, Abel was making strange motions with his hands. "Is there something wrong, Father Nightroad?"

As soon as the Lady Anna's attention returned to him, Abel ceased his waving, but before Tres could question him further, the waiter appeared to take their order. He was smartly dressed and turned out, and as he set his pencil to his notepad, he remarked, "Sirs, Madam. It may be of interest to you that they are giving out on the radio that the airships across the Channel are being cancelled tonight due to the storm blowing up. I imagine if you were returning to the Vatican, you may be affected."

They looked at one another with varying levels of dismay, before Tres got to his feet. "I shall investigate the matter. Please, enjoy your meal."

He left the Lady Anna and Father Nightroad staring after him.

"He's very strange," Lady Anna remarked cautiously.

"Yes, yes…" Abel said, scratching at the back of his neck. "That he is…"

oOo

It turned out that all airships and ferries across to the continent were cancelled that evening, though the airline were quick to assure Tres that the flights were predicted to return to normal schedule the _following_ evening. Ensuring that they would be able to transfer to the next flight out, Tres picked up their amended tickets and returned to the restaurant. He found his companions relaxing quietly at the table, the remains of a light meal evident before them. They were talking in soft tones as Tres approached to relay the news.

"Well, we had expected as much," Abel said. "But no problem. Anna has a relative here in London whom she would like to visit with this evening, but she won't be in until later this afternoon. I thought we could go and visit one of the museums in the meantime, for something to do."

Tres' expression did not change, although he noted immediately that Abel no longer referred to her as 'Lady Anna'. "Affirmative, Father Nightroad," he replied.

"Why," said Anna, "You really are a most fascinating man, Father Tres."

"Father Iques."

"I'm sorry?"

"My designation is Father Tres Iques. The more correct manner of addressing me would be 'Father Iques'."

"Why, I do apologise," Anna replied as Abel spluttered. "Father Iques it is."

Smiling to the two men, she rose to her feet, tucking the chair neatly under the table. "We should leave now if we wish to make good time to the museum, Fathers."

Tres nodded in agreement and the two of them made their way out of the restaurant side by side, Father Nightroad trailing along after them.

oOo

They spent a pleasant few hours at the Museum of Natural and Technological History, perusing the exhibits and making observations on some of the more exotic displays. Abel seemed quiet at times, preferring to allow Tres to answer any questions that the young daughter of the Duke had. He stopped occasionally and peered closely at some of the technological exhibits of old half-understood artefacts, and sometimes he read the placards hanging above them and smiled a strange, sad smile as though at some private joke only he understood.

Afterwards, they stopped to purchase drinks at a street vendor's stall, and as Abel was handing the coins over, Anna pulled at his sleeve, drawing his attention down to one of the newspapers stacked on display. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Did you hear anything about that before you came over?"

Tres saw Abel look down, read the headline of the article and freeze. When he did not immediately reply to her question, Anna picked up the paper and read the article out loud. "Three days ago, Amarno and Isolde Vespario, both adult-turned vampires, were reported missing. The local Florence Representative for Vampiric Affairs today made the statement that both vampires had been confirmed dead. Investigation into the affair has revealed links to the Vatican and has raised questions as to the intention of that establishment with regards to the husband and wife. Emmanuelle Ricos, representative of the Department of Inquisition, was earlier recorded as confirming the Vatican's involvement with the "eradication of vampiric threat from the shores of Italia."

Friends and family of the deceased described them as the perfect couple, regular church-goers and loved by the community. They are reported to have accused the Vatican of the murder of their family members and are currently seeking legal advice…" Goodness…Father Nightroad, did you hear anything about this before you came over?"

Tres' gaze flicked between the paper in the girl's hand and the pale, drawn face of his partner. He was about to step forward when Abel laughed lightly and waved a hand dismissively in the air over the paper. "I don't know, Lady Anna. You can never believe what you read in the papers after all. Maybe there was something, but I don't really remember."

Anna lowered the paper with a noncommittal sound and nodding to the stall keeper, placed it back on the stack. "Perhaps you'd like to see another museum. I hear the Museum of Costume is quite interesting…"

Tres watched as Abel led the Lady Anna away and then moved over to the stand to look down at the papers. "Vatican Murdered Our Daughter!" the headline proclaimed in gothic script. Passing a coin over to the stall keeper, Tres picked up a copy of the paper and tucked it inside his coat before following after the other two.

oOo

Abel was noticeably quiet throughout the Museum of Costume, enough even that Father Iques noticed it. The Lady Anna, realising that she had somehow made some sort of mistake, took over the conversation and spent a great deal of time talking about how she could never make the dresses and coats on display with her own skills. Tres kept a sharp watch on Abel, alert for any further sign that he was suffering discomfort, but the father remained stable in his actions, if somewhat quieter than normal for him.

Eventually, with the afternoon turning towards five o'clock, they left the museum and stood for a while on the street outside, admiring the park across the way. Abel was just turning to say something to them both when an ear-splitting yell broke the relative quiet.

"Nightrooooaaad!! Oy! Nightroad! Over here!"

They turned to the source of the noise and Tres flicked the locking mechanism on his guns back into 'safe' as he registered the figure making its way jauntily down the street towards them. Father Leon Garcia de Asturias was a huge, bear of a man, all muscle and ruffled mane of dark hair. He grinned roguishly at the two priests as he strode along towards them, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

Stopping next to them, his grin widened ever further as he clapped Abel on the shoulder hard enough to make the other man stumble. "Well! Didn't expect to see you two sods here! What are you doing all the way over here in Albion? Bit far from home for you isn't it, Gunslinger?!"

A light frown creased Tres' features at the public use of his handle, and he was searching for a way to silence the other priest without drawing undue attention to them both when Leon laughed loudly.

"No matter! It's good you're both here. Stranded like me and Hugue I'll bet! Never mind, I was going out to find a good tavern tonight and sample some of the local beer. See what they've got on offer over here, you should come with me seeing as though that miserable bastard won't…why hello, and who might you be?"

Leon halted his tirade suddenly and looked down to where the Lady Anna was staring up at him, a smile of amusement on her features. "My name is Anna of Westbury," she replied with a neat curtsey. And you are?"

At this point, Abel had managed to recover enough to put himself between the Duke's daughter and Leon who was reaching across to take her hand and kiss it if Abel was going to go by his friend's history. "This, is Father Leon Garcia de Asturias," he interjected quickly. "He won't be joining us tonight, heh…"

"I imagine not," Anna exclaimed as Leon affected a look of hurt betrayal. "I don't think my great-aunt could cope with a man of such boisterous and jovial nature. She's very timid you know."

Leon looked down at her again. "Well, you could always come along with us to the tavern," he suggested.

"No!" Abel snapped, rounding on the other priest in alarm.

Anna laughed and shrugged, sidestepping Abel to peer around him. "I agree, Father Nightroad. I think I must keep my appointment with my great aunt. However, that doesn't mean you cannot enjoy the company of your friends this evening. You go with Father Garcia here, and Father Iques and I shall attend to my great aunt this evening."

And so it was settled, much to Leon's delight, Abel's horror and Tres' consternation. But for all his misgivings, he could not justify why Abel should not be allowed to attend the tavern for the evening. After all, Father Garcia de Asturias was a reasonably competent fighter in his own right. If anything were to happen, they would both be able to handle themselves without cause for concern.

Leon led them back in the direction of their hotel, all the while explaining to Anna and a furiously blushing Abel how he had been delivering books to a local university with Hugue when they had been set upon by naked ravenous female vampires which they had duly fought off with all the aplomb of true Vatican priests. Tres was not much convinced by the tale, being used to Leon's overblown reporting of his actions, and since a break in the narrative was evidently not to be forthcoming, he spent the journey in silence.

When finally they reached their hotel they found Hugue seated in a corner of the restaurant reading a book and sipping tea. Tres made his way over to the man, receiving a flick of the other's gaze towards him as his only greeting. Abel soon followed, having left Anna to return to her room and change whilst Leon harassed the bar staff for their strongest beverage.

Abel flopped down in the seat opposite Hugue whilst Tres took up a position beside the table at the window where he could see both the restaurant floor and the street outside.

"How is it that you're both here at our hotel?" Abel asked as the waiter appeared with more tea. Hugue folded his book closed, marking his page with a strip of black ribbon and poured tea for them both.

"Kate-san told us," he replied shortly.

"Hmm, well, at least we're all here together," Abel replied, stirring sugar into his drink.

"Indeed."

They drank their tea in silence after that, Hugue staring out at the slowly gathering darkness as Abel relaxed and stretched his legs out beside the table. Eventually Leon came over to join them, resigned to drinking tea after exhausting the possibilities at the bar. "Too damned expensive here," he grumbled.

They sat together, talking about what they had seen in London until the Lady Anna returned, her clothes changed for suitable evening wear. She smiled at the three seated priests and then spoke directly to Tres.

"I shall be waiting in the lobby for you when you are ready, Father Iques. I've ordered a carriage for ten minutes time. Please gentlemen, I hope you enjoy your respective evenings."

Hugue watched her as she retreated to the lobby before turning his attention to Abel. "She is to be the new novice, I understand?"

"Yes," Abel replied. "Nice young lady."

"Well, nice or not," Leon replied. "She's got good sense. She'll get no trouble out of the Gunslinger tonight and he's the only one here who could cope with hours on end of boring old folk talk without bursting a blood vessel. Except for Hugue maybe. In fact you'd probably be right at home among the doilies and the cats, Hugue."

Hugue did not even bother to glare at his companion, aloof to the very end.

"Hah!" Leon exclaimed. "Come on then, Abel! It's time you and I found that tavern we were talking about!"

Then, grasping the other priest firmly by the upper arm, he half-dragged him out of his chair and across the restaurant in the direction of the lobby and the outside world.

"Argh! Tres! Take care of the Lady Anna tonight!" Abel exclaimed as Leon hauled him away.

"Yeah, don't wait up!" Leon threw back over his shoulder, and then they were gone.

Tres watched them stumble out onto the street and into the once more pouring rain, pulling their coats up around their necks as Leon threw an arm around Abel's shoulders to better drag him along. Satisfied that they were at last out of sight, Tres turned away form the window back to the table and to Hugue who was regarding him with casual disinterest.

"Father Watteau, Leon indicated that he was unaware of our presence here. Am I to understand it that this was a deception on his part?"

Hugue took a slow sip of his tea and quirked one eyebrow minutely. "You may take it however you please, Father Iques."

Tres considered. He had worked briefly with Hugue in the past and was well aware of the man's competence and skill. For all that however, he was also well aware of the man's history of disobedience and insubordination. It would seem unwise therefore to antagonise the reclusive man and jeopardise a future working relationship with him by attempting to encourage him to reveal deception on the part of a man that all told, had worked closer with Hugue than Tres ever had.

Silence, he supposed, was the better option. "I see," he replied. "Good evening, Father Watteau."

Hugue ignored him and returned to his book, as Tres made his way through the restaurant in search of the Lady Anna.

oOo

Tres' evening progressed much as he had predicted, and although there were doilies, many of them, on almost every available surface, there was a notable lack of cats. There were however two elderly and crotchety old Pekingese dogs that yapped and snarled at him from beneath the table all evening. He ignored them in much the same way that he would ignore any non-threatening creature and his lack of reaction when one of them bit his ankle appeared to actually endear him to Anna's elderly great aunt.

Despite her age, the old woman appeared intent on hearing every scrap of news that her young relative had to offer and so it was that it was close to midnight by the time they departed her town house and summoned a carriage to return them to the hotel.

It was there, with the clip-clop of hooves cutting through the buzz of nightlife passing by outside that the Lady Anna surprised him. "So, you're a cyborg then?" she said suddenly as they turned left along Oxford Street.

Tres blinked and considered. It did not seem inappropriate to confirm her guess, indeed, it would perhaps be somewhat detrimental to evade the question. "Affirmative," he replied simply.

"Mmm," she replied thoughtfully and for the rest of the journey remained silent. Tres, for his part, was not programmed for small talk and so remained content to let the matter drop.

They reached the hotel close to a quarter to midnight whereupon the Lady Anna retreated immediately to bed. Tres, bidding her a polite goodnight, registered the figure of Hugue still sitting in the restaurant, though it appeared that some time in the evening he had shifted his position to the opposite side of the window where he could look out at the street in the other direction. Crossing the lobby towards the dining room, Tres approached the other priest's table. Hugue was already watching him as he drew close.

"Good evening, Father Watteau. Have the others returned yet?"

Shutting his book and slipping it into a fold of his robes, Hugue rose to his feet.

"No," he replied simply.

Tres turned to follow the other man's lithe movements as the tall priest slipped past him and headed for the lobby. "Where are you going, Father Watteau?"

"To find them."

Considering this a good next step, Tres strode quickly across the restaurant to catch up. "Do you know their location, Father?"

Hugue nodded and pushed open the lobby door, stepping out into the cold night with Tres at his shoulder.

oOo

The Hobgoblin Tavern was old, with a clientele that went back generations. Despite the name, it was a somewhat respectable establishment with oak panelling and warmly glowing old oil lamps as opposed to the fuel-less lost technology lamps so prevalent throughout the rest of London.

When Tres and Hugue entered, stepping carefully down the steep staircase into the cellar seating section, the rest of the patrons did not so much as look up at the appearance of two Vatican priests in their midst. Good taste or good sense, it was not readily apparent which kept them talking.

They found their two companions in the far corner of the room sat in a private booth behind a table of old, dark oak. Leon was leaning back against the wall, his feet propped on the bench at the other side of the table, whilst Abel, his hand clutching a tankard, sat slumped with his head down on his other arm.

Hugue walked first to the bar, ordering a glass of rich red wine for himself before gathering Tres up and leading him over to their companion's table. Leon gave them a nod and a grim smile as they approached, and moved his feet off the bench as Hugue kicked them with the side of his foot. Seating himself, the priest pushed back the hood of his cloak and settled himself comfortably. Tres, uncertain as to what was required of him, remained standing at Hugue's shoulder.

"For pity's sake sit down, Tres-kun…you're making the place look untidy."

Abel lifted his head to stare at his partner with an expression that Tres could not quite place.

"I think," Leon interjected, not unkindly, "That the Gunslinger has come to walk you home, Abel."

Abel frowned and sighed quietly, then took a long moment to stare at the table. After a while he pursed his lips into a look of resignation and pushed his half-empty tankard across the table to Leon, who caught it and moved it away to his left. Pushing himself to his feet, he sniffed and turned to Leon. "Good night, Leon-san. I hope you find out soon. Good night, Hugue-san. A pleasant evening to you both."

Then, pulling his coat slowly around him, he slipped out from behind the table and clapping Tres on the shoulder as he passed, made his way across the room towards the stairs. Tres turned back from watching him leave to stare at Leon. The other priest raised his eyebrows and shrugged noncommittally. Frowning slightly, Tres followed his partner out of the tavern and into the night. Behind him, Hugue and Leon exchanged glances and then Leon ran his palms tiredly over his face before leaning forward onto his elbows to speak to his partner. By that time however, Tres had caught up with Abel and was too far away to hear the words that passed between them.

The night air was crisp and cold, and the scent of rainwater was heavy around them. The storm predicted for the night had not yet hit the coast and only the play of wind through the rooftops whispered of its approach. Abel was walking with his head down, his arms wrapped around himself as the wind swept his hair up and around his shoulders. Extending his stride to catch up with the other man, Tres kept even pace at his side and unobtrusively began to monitor him. Even from this distance he could smell the alcohol on the other priest's breath.

"Did you have a good evening, Tres?" Abel asked.

Even turning his auditory sensors up a further 15, Tres could not detect any particular discrepancies in the other man's speech. "The Lady Anna and her great aunt were suitably entertained," he replied. Abel laughed quickly and wiped at his face with the sleeve of his coat.

"I'm sure they found you _delightful _company, Tres."

Unsure of Abel's tone, the cyborg thought it appropriate not to respond to the statement directly. "Was your evening with Leon enjoyable?" he tried.

Again, that strange, quick laugh that Tres had never heard from Abel before. "Enjoyable? I don't think enjoyable is quite the term for it, my friend. We _spoke_, of many things, and I think I may have upset poor old Leon. Too much of the truth and too little cheer for that one I think."

Tres ran the words through every filter and algorithm he could before replying. "I do not follow, Father Nightroad," he replied carefully.

"Tres, Leon-san is an ass. A jovial, wonderful, broken-hearted ass who thinks that just talking about your problems is enough to make them better. He wouldn't know how to fix a problem if someone gave him a diagram and a link to the central database."

Abel's voice was becoming strained and the beginnings of an accent that Tres did not recognise was starting to slip into his voice. "Central database, Father Nightroad? I do not follow."

"No, no…of course you don't. They wouldn't give you the permissions anyway…"

Tres looked sideways at the other priest walking along with his arms pulled tight around him. It seemed suddenly, that despite all his research, Tres had once more found himself out of his depth. It fell then, to the things that he understood.

"Status, Father Nightroad?" he requested.

For a long moment Abel appeared to ignore him, then he flung his head back and let out a deep breath. "I think, Tres-kun," he said slowly, "That I may be somewhat drunk."

"Indeed, Father Nightroad," Tres replied. "I will ensure that you reach our room without incident."

"Hai…" Abel breathed softly and for a moment his footsteps faltered. Tres reached out with one arm to steady him, supporting him until he found his balance again, and then, because it seemed unwise, and also because Abel did not relinquish his grip, he let the other priest continue to lean on his arm until they reached the hotel. As they mounted the steps to the entrance, the wind picked up and a patter of cold raindrops hit the ground at their feet. Pushing the father gently inside, Tres allowed the door to close behind them just as the scattering of rain turned into a true downpour and the heavens opened as the storm finally hit.

oOo

It took Tres some time to settle Abel down into sleep, for the other man was restless and refused to stay still. Reluctant to leave him alone however, for Tres remained uncertain precisely how drunk the other priest was, he could do nothing but patiently convince the other man that sleep was for now the best option.

Finally settled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes, Abel appeared to be about to sleep. Tres watched him from a position on the other bed, listening to the rhythm of his breathing amidst the roar of the storm outside the window.

Suddenly, so softly that Tres took a moment to identify the sound as laughter, Abel began to chuckle. It was not a sound that Tres would usually have associated with "happiness" which was in part why he took so long to identify it. This was a breathless, almost pained sound that was unlike the light laughter he was accustomed to hearing from his companion.

"Status, Father Nightroad?" he enquired quietly.

For a little while, Abel was silent, then he sighed and replied, "Sometimes, Tres. I just think it's an impossible task that I have set myself. Sometimes I just cannot see a way forward."

"I do not understand, Father Nightroad."

"I'm tired, Tres. So very, very tired."

Tres considered, "Then sleep, Father Nightroad. I shall ensure that you are not disturbed."

After that, Abel did not say anything else, and from the slow shift of his breathing, Tres ascertained that he had followed his advice and shut himself down into his own biological sleep mode. Sitting there in the darkness, Tres considered the implications of what he had seen that night. It was unlike the father to allow himself to become drunk whilst on a mission, though clearly he had been accosted with intent by both Leon and to a greater or lesser extent, Hugue also. The cyborg did not fully comprehend their part in this matter, or their intent, and he doubted if he were to ask if they would reveal their reasoning to him anyway. One thing remained clear however. In light of Catherina-sama's mission, it was obvious now to the cyborg that Abel Nightroad was very much _not_ okay.

Resigning the matter to further investigation during the daylight hours, Tres activated his guard routine, chained it to his monitoring subroutine and sat back to wait out the night and the storm.


	5. A Promise Made

Hello again everyone! See? Not dead!

No seriously, I do a lot of gift-fics around Christmas, so everything else gets put on the back-burner around that time of year. I shall state again as I've stated before though - this fic is not going to be left unfinished. It _will _be finished. :)

I'm a bit tired so last chapter's review responses will be done tomorrow - I hope you enjoy this chapter - really, this should have been part of chapter four, but the previous chapter was getting a bit long, so I decided to divide it up into two. Story should start to pick up after this chapter too. :) Let me know if it's still working out okay!

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_Chapter 5_

As quickly as it had risen up, the storm died away again leaving London grey and glistening in the light of a new day. Booked as they were on an evening flight, it fell to the four priests and their charge to entertain themselves until the time rolled around for them to leave. Leon spent the day at the restaurant bar talking to anyone who dared to make eye contact with him, and playing cards with those foolish enough to stay and put money on the table. Since Hugue had vanished at dawn, and Abel refused to remove himself from his bed – even when Leon banged on his door for the fifth time – Leon's most constant companion turned out to be the Lady Anna. The daughter of the Duke of Westbury revealed herself to be a most competent card player, much to Leon's delight, and between them they managed to win a substantial amount of money from what could only be described as their victims.

Tres remained on alert in the hotel, though if asked he would have replied it was merely his routine setting rather than any actual anticipation of a threat. Having ascertained that his presence was not in any way needed at the card table - For a machine, you have a damned poor poker face, Gunslinger! Leon had exclaimed to him – he remained instead in the corner of the restaurant at a table overlooking both the dining area and the lobby. At first he had intended to remain in the room he was sharing with Father Nightroad, but it quickly became apparent that he was not welcome there when Abel had complained that his constant pacing was making his head hurt harder. Tres had elected to remain still after that, but Abel had quickly chased him away claiming that even his silent presence was making him feel bad. Apparently, Father Nightroad was not the most gracious of people after a night on the tiles.

Around lunchtime, Abel still had not roused himself from his room, and so Tres ordered dinner for him and took it back upstairs. It would not be appropriate, the cyborg reasoned, for the father to collapse mid-flight and give their charge cause to be concerned for her safety. Besides which, there were still five hours and thirty-two minutes left before they were due to leave for the airport. Adequate time Tres reasoned, to allow him to engage Father Nightroad in further "meaningful conversation" and elicit from him the reason for his atypical behaviour. Not bothering to knock, the cyborg opened the door to their shared room and stepped inside.

The room was empty.

Placing the bag of food on the edge of the dressing table, Tres glanced quickly around the main bedroom before peering past the open bathroom door. The small room stood vacant, the shower curtain drawn back and the walls clear of condensation. No-one had used this room for some time. The mirror reflected the flash of his laser sight tracker back at him as the cyborg turned and, picking up the paper bag, retraced his steps back downstairs.

oOo

It had taken Hugue the better part of the morning to locate the small shop. Looking once more at the handwritten directions he held tightly in one hand, the priest sighed and drained the last of his coffee from its cardboard cup before tossing it into a nearby bin. He had the distinct feeling that the Professor's directions had done more to lead him around in circles than if he had simply set out at random and asked for directions from each person he passed.

Folding the map into his pocket he crossed the cobbled backstreet, his boots flicking up tiny droplets of water from the puddles, and peered in the dusty window. Seeing nothing through the thick layer of grime and piled up merchandise on the sill, he placed a hand on the dull brass handle of the shop and made his way inside.

oOo

"Hey, those sandwiches going spare?"

"Where is Father Nightroad?"

"Huh?" Leon said, lowering his cards. "I thought he was upstairs in- hey...Hey! Gunslinger!"

But by that point, Tres was already halfway across the restaurant and heading for the lobby.

"Well," Leon grumbled. "He could have at least left the sandwiches behind..."

"I wonder what the problem is," Anna said quietly.

"Eh..." Leon scratched at the back of his neck and gave her a lop-sided grin. "Nothing, don't worry about it. Abel can look after himself, he's a big boy."

"Yes, quite..."

Rearranging his hand of cards, Leon peered closely at them and after some deliberation, selected one to play.

"Leon?"

"Eh?"

"Why _do_ you call him Gunslinger?"

oOo

Bardeville & Eddison's was a tiny, crooked shop concealed in the twisting backstreets of the Old Quarter. When Hugue pushed open the door, ducking his head to avoid the backwards swing of the old-fashioned brass doorbell, the first thing that hit him was the smell. It was nothing so crude as mildew, or damp, but rather the vaguely organic scent of old, yellowed paper and leather so ancient it had all turned to black.

The store floor was small and lined on all sides by bookcases and leggy antique furniture that looked altogether too spindly to bear the weight of the stacks of books placed haphazardly atop it. A large table stood in the centre of the narrow room, its surface entirely hidden by books and papers and a sprawling spider plant placed in the very centre whose leafy appendages wended their way over and amidst the old tomes.

Stepping carefully over the boxes and crates peeking their corners out from beneath the table, Hugue made his way carefully to the back of the shop and the old style counter that took up the entirety of the back wall. He paused for a moment when his gaze met the malevolent amber eyes of a huge, white Persian cat curled leonine in a chair behind the till. It watched him with an intent that could only be called spiteful, and flattened its ears as he reached for an old-fashioned hand bell labelled "RING ME" in faded ink.

The clanging tone was as solemn as he'd expected and from the back room beyond he heard the sound of movement in response. A voice, male and on the unfortunate side of middle-age, called out something that from the tone could only have been a request for patience. Setting the bell down carefully, Hugue's gaze flicked back up to meet the shop cat's and he had to resist the urge to frown at it when he found its eyes still fixed upon him. It really was an ugly monster of an animal with scabbed ears and a hitched lip that revealed the yellowed tip of one eye fang.

Cat and priest were still locked in their unholy battle of wills when the curtain concealing the back room whisked to one side and a small, aged fellow stepped out, dusting his hands off on his trousers. He was short and wiry, with thin grey hair and tiny half-moon spectacles over whose rim he peered at Hugue with watery grey eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said, a keen curiosity in his voice. "And how may I help you?"

Torn from his staring match with the ugly feline, Hugue brought himself back to the present and dug quickly in his pocket for the letter the Professor had given him. Wordlessly he handed it to the storekeeper. The man paused for a moment when his eyes passed over the handwriting on the front of the envelope, then he slit the top open with his thumb.

"Hmm," he said, scanning the letter it contained. He appeared to read it twice, going back to a particular section and rereading it again, a wan smile on his face. Eventually, he looked back up at Hugue, his head tilted to one side like a bird's.

"So you must be William's protégé then. Yes, you do look the type."

Hugue's slender eyebrows rose at the comment but the man was already turning away.

"You just wait here and I'll be back in a moment. Don't mind Peppermint, you just shoo him off if you want to sit down."

So saying, the man, Arthur Bardeville, antique dealer, classical historian and one-time colleague of the Professor's in his student days, vanished back into the room he had come from. Looking around himself, Hugue's gaze met that of the cat's and its eyes narrowed at him. Moving away, yet somehow loathe to turn his back on the obnoxious creature, Hugue took up a position beside one of the bookshelves, idly scanning the titles as he waited. It seemed that Bardeville & Eddison's specialised mostly in books concerning military history from centuries ago; battered and faded tomes the titles of which referenced campaigns he'd never even heard of.

At length, Arthur Bardeville returned. He held in his hands a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied tightly with string.

"Here you are, young man," he said, proffering the parcel. As Hugue's hands closed around it, the other man pulled it back slightly, leaning forward over its surface.

"And you tell William that next time, he's to come himself. Also, you be careful with this, boy. Don't go getting yourself mixed up in any of that old fool's schemes, he never did learn when to leave well enough alone. Don't you let him drag you down with him."

Releasing the parcel into Hugue's grip, Arthur Bardeville pushed his half-moon spectacles more firmly onto his nose and stalked away into the backrooms leaving the priest staring wordlessly after him. Looking down at the package in his hands, Hugue hefted its weight experimentally. It felt heavy, like a book, but a small, experimental shake made it click softly as though something was sliding around inside.

Mystified, he tucked it firmly under his arm, and with one last baleful look at the ugly Peppermint, let himself out of the shop and set off back towards the hotel.

oOo

Tres made his way down the streets of London, not oblivious to the looks his Vatican vestments were drawing, but confidant in both his own ability and the propensity towards curiosity rather than hostility that the natives were showing. He had drawn up a shortlist of places that Abel would head for, sorted into percentage likelihood of their containing the elements he predicted the father would require.

He checked the nearby cafes first of all, aware of Abel's preference for Earl Grey tea, a beverage that he often complained they "just couldn't get right" in Rome. Ignoring the looks of wide-eyed surprise he drew each time he strode between the tables to check every corner of an establishment, the cyborg made his way carefully down the streets near to their hotel. At last he came to the end of the establishments he considered to be within Abel's likely roaming distance taking into consideration the state of his health that morning.

Tres was just about to widen the parameters of his search pattern when he identified the figure of Father Hugue de Watteau striding down the street towards him. Altering his course to intercept the man, the cyborg placed himself firmly in the path of the oncoming priest. Hugue slowed and as soon as he came within the required distance for acceptable conversation volumes, Tres addressed him.

"Father Watteau, what is the location of Father Nightroad?"

"He's not with you?" Hugue replied.

"Affirmative."

For a moment, Hugue's expression flickered with an emotion that Tres was unable to read and the cyborg watched closely as the other man's eyes slid to the left and away before returning to meet his.

"Where have you checked?"

"I have made a preliminary sweep of the drinking establishments suited to the father's inclinations within all streets directly adjacent to the one on which we now stand. Adjusting search area to include next outer ring of streets."

"No, wait."

"You have further information, Father Watteau?"

"I…where's Leon and the Lady Anna?"

"At the time of my departure they were engaged in further card games within the dining room of the hotel."

Hugue sighed and shook his head slightly. "It's all right, I think I may know where he is."

Tucking the parcel he carried more securely under his arm, Hugue turned on his heel and walked away back in the direction he had come. After a moment's pause, Tres followed him.

oOo

Abel Nightroad felt bad.

Correction. Between the pounding headache, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and the throbbing behind his eyes, Abel Nightroad felt _appalling_. It was becoming hard to tell just how much of it was from the alcohol last night and how much of it was merely a continuation of the sickness growing in his heart.

Upon consideration, he really ought not to have allowed himself to be dragged into last night without at least some semblance of a fight. It was a bad idea; a momentary, desperate weakness that he knew he was going to be paying for some time soon.

He couldn't remember what he had said to Leon and that was the truly worrying part because there were large parts of the previous evening that just weren't there in his memory. For Abel Nightroad, that was really bad news.

Breathing out slowly, he leaned his forehead against the back of the pew in front of him. The little chapel was cool and silent around him, smelling of cold stone and the old leather of battered hymn books. Somewhere at the front next to the altar there was a little candle gleaming like a tiny star in the comfortingly low light. He had only lit the one, though he thought at the time he should perhaps have lit two. But even as he reached for the second it occurred to him that if he was to start lighting a candle for every life he owed his soul for then he'd soon run out of candles. Or end up burning the church down.

Either way, there was just the one candle gleaming at the front and just the one of him sat there in the warm glow of the electric lamps. Just him and the silence and the gnawing thought that he may just have said too much.

Abel Nightroad didn't really believe in God. He believed in people. Nonetheless, he prayed anyway because at the end of the day it was as good a way as any to make a promise. And this was a promise that he had made time and time again.

He pressed his forehead into the wood just a little harder and made the promise again, just for luck. Perhaps this time he'd keep it.

Then, pulling his coat around him, he rose just a little unsteadily to his feet, and sidled his way out of the pew. Behind him the little candle flame stirred and flickered as he pulled the door to the chapel open, but did not die out. Stepping out into the brightness of the London street, Abel Nightroad closed the door behind him and walked away.

He almost walked straight into Hugue coming the other way and the lanky swordsman was forced to take a step back out of his path before Abel eventually looked up and realised he was there. Hugue looked down at him with something that might have been concern in his eyes and was altogether too knowing for Abel's liking. It sent a thrill of horror down his spine – just what had he said to Leon last night that the rogue had then passed on, probably blown out of all proportion, to his partner?

He reacted in the only way he knew how. Smiling up at the other priest, he laughed nervously and gave him a little wave.

"Ahh…Hugue, how are you?"

From behind the tall swordsman stepped Tres and Abel blinked in surprise at the openly calculating expression on the cyborg's features. Tres' laser-sight beam flashed red and Abel winced, the sudden light cutting across his vision and setting his headache off even worse.

"Ahah..Father Iques…you're here too then?" he said, somewhat less enthusiastically. "I thought you were back in the hotel…"

"Status, Father Nightroad?" the cyborg said bluntly.

Abel winced. "I'm fine, Tres…"

"You look awful," Hugue stated softly and Abel gaped at him in surprise.

"I'm fine!" he replied indignantly.

"Why did you leave the hotel without informing me, Father Nightroad?" Tres asked. "Mission regulations clearly state that co-assigned AX members must maintain contact and update one another of their location at all times in the event of a situation arising."

"Shut up, Tres," Hugue said softly and both Abel and the cyborg gawped at him with various indications of open surprise. "Are you all right?" Hugue continued, leaning forward slightly.

Abel backed off instinctively, surprised and a little shocked. It was not like Hugue to show any form of empathy, although Abel had long privately suspected that the man was more than simply unversed in social interaction. There was after all, a big difference between social niceties and genuine concern and it was rare that Hugue bothered with the first and almost unheard of him to express the second. What _had_ Leon said to him?

"I'm..fine.." Abel replied, stumbling over his words a little in surprise.

Not to be put off, Tres interjected once more. "I repeat, Father Nightroad, what was the reason for your unannounced departure?"

Despite being somewhat thrown by Hugue's unexpected and slightly unwanted display of concern, Abel had already anticipated this one and was ready for it. Digging into his pocket he pulled out a packet of painkillers and waved them under Tres' nose, smiling.

"Ah…I ran out, you know. And my head hurts still, Tres."

The two priests stared at him and Abel looked from one face to the other, seeing Tres processing the information and watching the wheels turn behind Hugue's eyes. He smiled disarmingly at them and was rewarded as Tres nodded.

"We should return to the hotel, Father Nightroad. We are due to leave for the airport in eighty-three minutes."

Abel smiled and nodded amicably, watching as Hugue's expression blanked back to its normal indecipherable calm. The swordsman nodded once, all concern apparently dismissed, and turned to walk away. Abel stared after him until it became apparent that Tres was waiting for him to go first, and with a slight start set off after him.

Tres fell into step a few paces behind him, and that was how they made their way back to the hotel, Abel walking between them both to ensure he could not stray.

oOo

The return flight to Rome proved largely uneventful. The weather had calmed down completely by that point and the flight was smooth enough that one needed to look out of the window to perceive any movement at all.

Nonetheless, Abel spent a large portion of the journey huddled miserably out on the flight deck trying to settle his still complaining stomach. Leon had long ago ceased teasing him about his inability to handle alcohol after Hugue had placed a well-aimed elbow between his ribs. Now the large priest sat gloomily with his partner at an inside table, alternately keeping an eye on Abel through the window and grousing over the return to prison that would be his next destination once they made it back to Rome. Anna and Tres were seated at a table behind them playing cards for counters.

Looking over his shoulder to ensure the other two were absorbed in their game, Leon leaned forward and placed a large palm on Hugue's open book. The other priest scowled in annoyance and flicked cold blue eyes up to glare at his companion.

"Did he tell you where he went?" Leon said.

Hugue sighed and pulled his book sharply out from beneath the other man's palm.

"He said he went to get painkillers," he replied shortly.

"Do you believe him?" Leon asked.

Hugue tutted and pursed his lips. "No," he replied.

Leaning back with a knowing look on his face, Leon folded his arms and glared out of the window to where Abel sat huddled on a bench near the railings.

"Did you get the Professor's package?" he said eventually.

Flipping his book open again, Hugue resumed reading. "You know I did."

Leon huffed and shifted in his seat. "Just checking."

They sat in silence after that, the only movement occurring when Hugue reached up to flip the page in his book. Outside, the first drops of rain began to patter down, seeming fierce with the speed at which the airship was travelling. Leon frowned.

"He should come in," he said.

Hugue glanced sideways out of the window. "He is capable of looking after himself."

"Is he?" Leon said, his eyebrows rising. "Isn't that part of why we're doing this?"

Hugue just stared at him until Leon shifted, folding his arms beneath the other man's raptor gaze and muttering to himself uncomfortably.

At the table behind them, Anna was teaching Tres how to play blackjack. The cyborg appeared to grasp the rules of the game with typical proficiency, and he played with a mathematician's steadfast calm. It was, Anna thought to herself, rather different from playing her siblings back at home. For all his skill, Tres appeared to lack that most basic human charm – luck. And more amusing than that even, he appeared wholly unaware of his deficiency.

She smiled to herself and selected another card to play.

"You know," she said. "I'm rather glad to have a chance to play this game with you. I used to play this a lot with my friends and family at home."

She watched as Tres assimilated the information and then completely failed to continue the conversation. His utter lack of social skills were a source of great fascination to her, and she found his ignorance charming in an eccentric kind of way.

Smiling to herself, she sorted her hand into a more accessible order.

"So, how long have you been with Father Nightroad?" she asked offhandedly.

Tres selected a card and set it down on the table. "I am unable to provide that information, Miss Westbury."

"Ah," she replied. "I understand."

They continued for another couple of rounds and then she tried a new tack. "He is very lucky to have such a steadfast companion as yourself, Father Iques. One can never have too many trusted friends. After all, they can be few and far between."

She could feel his gaze on her as he recorded her expression and checked it for any indications of subtext. Apparently finding none, he continued to play his hand.

Anna smiled to herself and let the game flow on. At length, the beat of raindrops against the window became loud enough to draw her attention and she frowned out of the window. Through the rain streaking the glass she could just make out the figure of Father Nightroad still huddled out in the cold.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Father Iques, you really ought to go and fetch him in. It's pouring down and he'll make himself ill!"

Tres shifted in his seat to look out of the window. Then, nodding he rose to his feet.

"Affirmative."

He left Anna collecting up their cards and made his way along the wall to the flight deck door, three tables down. He was just pulling it open to step out when he almost collided with another person coming the other way. He stopped, reaching out an arm to steady the other person and found himself looking down into the upturned eyes of a young man. He was pale, his face was framed with damp curls made dark with the rain and from the clothes that he wore, he was obviously nobility.

"I apologise," Tres said.

The young man stumbled his reply, half-stepping around Tres, then, seeming to change his mind, stepped back outside and hurried away down the deck to the door further along. Tres stared after him for a moment, considering the likelihood that he had caused offence and then dismissed him as irrelevant. Pushing the door closed behind him, he made his way outside to fetch Abel.

oOo

They touched down in Rome an hour ahead of schedule and made their way on foot to the Vatican. Leon and Abel took it in turns to point out the local sights to their charge, once Abel had managed to pull the other priest out of his gloom long enough to forget his imminent return to prison and return to his favoured pastime of showing off.

It was a pleasant way to spend an hour or two and once they finally made it to the main reception hall they stood there together, the five of them, and simply looked at one another.

"Well, Anna," Abel said kindly. "Tres and I will take you to meet the Sister Beatrice who will be looking after you, and she'll get you all set up."

"Yeah," Leon supplied. "She's a good one, she'll look after you. And I've er, I've gotta get back. Places to go and all…"

Hugue gave him a sidelong look that could have meant anything and then bowed politely to Anna. "I wish you luck for the future, Miss Westbury. May God's blessings be upon you. Now, if you will excuse us, Leon and I have an appointment to make."

It was about that point, just as Anna was opening her mouth to reply, that the air next to their group crackled with static and the figure of Sister Kate flickered suddenly into existence. They all jumped, including those of them used to the sister's sudden appearances, and even Tres was halfway to drawing his guns. The look on Sister Kate's face stopped them all dead however. Hands clasped in front of her in agitation, she appealed directly to their group.

"Please, Abel, Tres, everyone. You must come quickly! It's Catherina-sama. In her study - she's collapsed! You must come now!"

Hugue stiffened in shock and the others stepped forward with exclamations of shock, but Tres was already moving. The hallway rang with the sound of his running footsteps and it was only a beat or two later before those of the others joined his.

Behind them, sister Kate flickered out of existence and the hallway was suddenly empty.


	6. Crossed Wires

**AN:-** First off, thank you to everyone who has reviewed - you're all absolutely amazing and make me smile every time. Secondly, this fic has almost 10,000 page views total. **Ten thousand.** People, you're crazy, but thank you!

Sorry it took a while, I've been doing springkink. If you want to know what that is, go here:

http (://) community (.) livejournal (.) com (/) springkink

Essentially, people submit prompts for a month, then authors claim them and then have a month to write them. We're just making our way through April's lot, which is what I've been doing for the past two months, but prompt submission for May will be open soon and this time there were no Trinity Blood prompts at all. Help me remedy that in the next round.

Anyway, on with the show. Usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

By the time Anna had made it around the heavy oak door and into Catherina's study, the others were already gathered around the fallen Cardinal. Catherina was lying on her side in the pool of her crimson robes, her head cradled gently against Tres' thigh. Abel was bent over her speaking softly as Hugue and Leon hovered uncertainly, Sister Kate a silent spectre at their side.

Catherina's skin was pale and her breathing shallow but she was awake and aware, her eyes flicking up in response to Abel's softly insistent voice.

"Excuse me, young lady."

Anna turned just as a pair of hands settled on her shoulders and gently but firmly moved her to one side.

"My sincerest apologies, ma'am, but I must get past to attend to the Cardinal."

She barely had time to take in the good natured smile behind the words before the man was past her in a sweep of priestly vestments and the lingering scent of tobacco. He crossed swiftly to kneel beside Catherina, Abel relinquishing his position without protest. The others appeared to relax at this man's arrival and he quickly took over, his hands checking the Cardinal's pulse and cupping her cheeks to look into her eyes.

Catherina let out a shallow breath that might have been a sigh and reached a hand up to grasp at his wrists.

"William, I'm all right really."

The man, William, made a non-committal sound and cast around the room as if looking for something.

"We can't have you lying here on the floor," he said.

As soon as the words were spoken, Tres leaned forward and slipped his arms beneath Catherina's shoulders and knees, lifting her effortlessly before rising to his feet. Striding swiftly across the room he made quickly for the half-open door in the back wall. Disappearing within he could be seen laying his charge down on a chaise longue, pulling the cushions forward for her to rest her head upon more easily.

And that was the last Anna saw, for the cyborg was followed by both Abel and William, who paused to close the door quietly behind him, blocking all further view. Almost at once, Sister Kate flickered out of existence with a hiss of static and the two remaining priests were left staring at each other.

"Well...now what?" said Leon gruffly.

Hugue shrugged, an almost dismissive lifting of his shoulders, and shook his head slowly.

"We wait," he replied. "Kate will let us know if anything happens."

Leon folded his arms unhappily and frowned, his consternation mirrored in the uncomfortable shifting of Hugue's gaze. The tall swordsman's eyes came to rest upon Anna's form where she still hesitated in the doorway, and a flash of remembrance stirred in his expression.

"Ah...we should take you to Sister Beatrice, Lady Anna," he said.

Leon, apparently glad of the distraction, nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah...we'll get you settled in and sorted. Might be able to grab a free lunch too since you're new, and I'll teach you another type of poker I know. Gotta get some sin in before the holy vows shut you down after all!"

"Leon!"

"What?! Come on Hugue, I'm just joking, you know that..."

Still bickering, the two priests led the young woman away and out into the echoing corridors of the Vatican.

oOo

Dropping a single spoonful of sugar into the tea, Abel stirred it carefully before setting the teaspoon back in the saucer and placing the cup on the low table next to the chaise longue. Catherina smiled wearily at him and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the side of the chair. Beside her, the Professor levered himself back to his feet, dusting his knees off and chewing thoughtfully on the end of his pipe.

"I'm fine now, William, really," Catherina said softly.

The Professor made a humming noise in his throat that sounded entirely unconvinced.

"Of course, Catherina-sama, but you will keep me updated if you experience any further symptoms..."

"It's very important, Catherina-sama," said Sister Kate softly from her place at the foot of the chaise longue. "We worry about you..."

"Enough!" said Catherina sharply. "I shall not have you all hovering over me like chaperones the entire time!"

The three humans looked chagrined, Kate clasping her hands before her and looking down at her feet, the two men shifting uncomfortably. Tres for his part, did not move, staring ahead at the wall steadily.

"I appreciate your concern, my friends," she continued more gently. "But you must understand. These things look worse than they actually are."

The three humans stared back at her unhappily, their disbelief poorly veiled. Catherina sighed and her stern expression softened.

"I promise to let you know if my condition deteriorates any further," she said.

William nodded and Kate smiled. "Then we shall leave you in peace," the Professor said. Kate's hologram flickered out of existence and the Professor bowed to the Cardinal and the others before turning to take his leave.

"Abel."

Catherina's voice stopped Abel in his tracks as he made to follow the Professor and he turned back, eyebrows raised in query.

"You must stay here with Tres and report upon your journey to me."

"Ah! Of course!" he replied, and pulled up a chair. "Shall I, Tres?" he said, looking up at the cyborg.

Tres nodded once and Abel began their report.

oOo

"You gonna eat that?"

"Yes."

"Nn...okay."

Leon hunched back in his chair again, shifting around awkwardly in an effort to make himself comfortable. Beside him, Hugue sat straight-backed, the picture of elegance. The two priests were waiting in the Professor's study, ready to turn their mission report over for his perusal. The early afternoon sun slanting through the windows was lending the room a pleasant warmth that had set Hugue to drowsing, his half-closed eyes on the dust motes sparkling in the shafts of sunlight. Leon however, was bored. It was not often he was allowed freedom from his prison cell and the thought of losing the precious time to idling in the library of a half-crazy bookworm was beginning to grate on him. Carefully, aware of the Sword Dancer's viper reflexes, he eyed the paper wrapped sandwich sat on the edge of the Professor's desk. If he could just...

"Ah! Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen!"

Hugue's eyes snapped fully open at the sound of the Professor's voice and any opportunity for sandwich-napping was lost. The two priests stood politely to welcome the third and Hugue stepped forward quickly to relieve him of the silver tea tray he carried in his hands.

"Wonderful," the Professor said, allowing Hugue to set out the cups and pour the tea. "Now that's taken care of..."

He seated himself behind his desk and looked expectantly across at them.

"How's Catherina?" Leon asked without preamble.

Hugue's eyes flicked up briefly to gauge the Professor's face as he listened to his reply.

"She's stable," William replied. "It concerns me that these fainting fits are becoming more frequent, but there is little to suggest an explanation for their cause save that they tie in directly to her continued illness. Would that there was some way of alleviating them, but it seems in all honesty that the best cure will be for her to simply rest."

The three men sipped tea in silence for a moment after that and then William shook his head, as if clearing away his concerns. "Tell me now then," he said. "Were you successful?"

Hugue and Leon exchanged glances. "Well," said Leon. "I got him drunk and asked him what the hell was up with him. Turns out it's the same old, same old with him. Remember that case he an' Tin Man took a week or so back, the one with the newlyweds turned vampire?"

The Professor nodded. "The Vespario case," he replied.

"Yeah, that one. Cult of the Star or whatever it was."

"Cult of the Star of Dawn," Hugue supplied quietly.

"Whatever. The two psychopaths, killing clergy as young as they could get 'em. Anyway, those two. Turns out that Abel's not so happy about the way he handled that case. Turns out that it wasn't the hot shot that killed 'em like it usually is. According to Abel he was the one to take them down, killed the pair of them while he was in that devil form of his. And you know what that means..."

The Professor breathed out long and slow. "He lost control."

"Yeah," Leon said. "Broke his promise to himself good and proper."

"That promise is important to him," Hugue said quietly. "We may not know the reasons behind his making it, but nonetheless it is of great significance to him. He has based his very life around it."

The Professor folded his hands on the desk and leaned on them with a grave sigh. "Did he say anything else to you?"

"Well," Leon frowned. "Sort of. Not really. Mostly he was just hung up on the fact that he'd done it. Said he couldn't stop himself."

"He said what?" William asked quickly.

Leon frowned uncomfortably. "Look, I don't wanna go gettin' him in trouble or anything."

"Leon," the Professor said sternly. "We're trying to help Abel, not condemn him. God knows there's not a one of us here whose soul is spotless. If you hold back information we can't do what's necessary to help Abel."

Leon shook his head unhappily. "I know that...it's just..."

"He appears to be addicted to the blood," Hugue said quietly.

"Hugue!"

"It is as though he draws pleasure from its consumption. Similar to the way that a vampire does."

"I didn't say that!" Leon protested furiously.

"You didn't need to," Hugue replied calmly.

"Gentlemen, please. That's enough. We need to look at this development calmly and scientifically."

The two priests continued to glare at one another for a long, heated moment until Hugue turned his gaze coolly back to the Professor and Leon settled back in his chair, his arms folded unhappily. "That's better," William said. "Now, both of you, tell me what else you found out. Everything please, leave nothing out."

Leon shifted uncomfortably. "That's about it really," he said. "He didn't really say much else. Just kept on repeating what he'd already said. That he'd killed the pair of 'em and that he'd not been able to stop himself. And that it wasn't right what he'd done."

"He showed remorse?"

"Yeah, all the way through. Just kept on and on about how he'd destroyed something precious. That he'd destroyed their love. Called himself a monster at one point too. I dunno, I told him to stop that shit and he didn't say it again after that."

Hugue stared at the Professor as Leon related what Abel had told him. When it was clear that the other priest had finished, he continued in his place. "It appears that Abel believes even more strongly than we had at first guessed in the sanctity of all life, both human and vampire. I know not what causes him to hold such mercy in his heart, but I feel that he is somewhat misguided."

Leon snorted indelicately and the Professor raised his eyebrows noncommittally.

"Be that as it may, Hugue, this is a belief of Abel's that is very dear to his heart. A belief that threads through all his decisions and affects the very way in which he leads his life. We will respect that until we can discover the reasoning behind such a view. Which brings me to the next part of your mission. Have you got the package?"

Hugue nodded and reached inside his coat, drawing out the parcel that he had picked up from the antique merchant, Arthur Bardeville. Placing it on the table he slid it across to the Professor who pulled the paper wrapping quickly off and pressed the centre of the lid until the box clicked open. Reaching inside he drew out a small cubic crystal that flashed with a blue gleam in the sunlight.

"Wonderful..." he breathed.

"What is that thing?" Lean asked, leaning forward.

"This, dear boy, is a book."

"A...book? It doesn't look like a book..."

"You're right, it doesn't. But the fact remains that inside this little crystal there could be stored thousands upon thousands of pages of information. One could speculate that perhaps there would be enough to fill an entire library!"

"Right..." said Leon, unconvinced. "So how do you read it then?"

The Professor's face fell a little. "Well now," he said, scratching his head. "That remains to be seen."

"You don't know?" Hugue asked, an edge of surprise in his soft voice.

"Well, 'don't know' is a strong way of putting it," William replied cheerfully. "Am not yet versed in its translation is a better way I think!"

"That's the same thing," Leon muttered as the Professor pulled out two more of the small objects and set them side by side on the desktop.

"Have faith, dear boy!" William grinned. "For I do know where to start to find out!"

"And what are you hoping to find in them, Professor?" Hugue asked.

"Well now," William replied. "Arthur Bardeville and I go back a very long way. We attended University together and were students of the same field. He and I share a common interest in the lost technologies and many is the afternoon we've spent trawling through research papers and old documents searching for clues as to its uses and implementation. I've seen these things before many times. They're called data crystals, and as I said, if you can find the correct way to read them they contain a huge amount of information. Information which specifically may help us to understand the true nature of Abel's Kresnik form, and from there, find a way to help him integrate himself fully into society."

"Integrate?" said Hugue.

"Why yes. We need to help him overcome his inner demons so that he can lead a normal life."

Leon snorted. "Like any of us lead normal lives!"

Hugue folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, his eyes hooded and thoughtful.

"As Father Nightroad's friends, and as priests of the Lord, Leon, it is our duty to aid him in whatever way we can, and that includes taking care of his immortal soul and his emotional wellbeing," the Professor said sternly. "Abel needs to be encouraged to put his past behind him and join in with the rest of society, leading a life just like any other man's."

There was a long, thoughtful pause as the three priests considered the implications of that, and then Leon frowned and shifted his folded arms. "A normal life, huh? You mean like...with a wife and kids and stuff?"

Hugue and the Professor blinked as they worked the thought through their heads. Then a slow smile pulled at the corner of William's mouth. "Why now, Leon. I do believe you've hit the nail right on the head. Giving Abel a reason to live, and a focus for his energies other than the work of the Vatican. A wife, or at least, a lady, might be exactly the solution Abel needs."

Hugue was frowning but William's enthusiasm had been kindled and already they could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"Right...but who?" Leon asked uncertainly.

"Catherina," Hugue said immediately and the other two stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"The Cardinal?" said Leon hesitantly.

"He is devoted to her," was the calm reply.

William and Hugue exchanged glances, but neither of them could think immediately of any reason to naysay the idea.

"That...well. That seems like a good enough idea, for a starting point anyway," the Professor said eventually. "Well...all right! That's decided then. Now, I need you two gentlemen to take a request to Sister Kate for me asking her to release the cipher crystal into my care for a little while. I'm going to need it if I'm to unlock the data crystals you brought back with you from London. And in the meantime, I suppose I shall have to think a little more on just how we're going to go about introducing the romantic element to Abel's life."

"Yeah...Uh, Proff?" said Leon. "I gotta go back soon...you know. 'Cos they're gonna be wondering where I've got to if I don't turn up again soon. At the clank...they get pretty upset if I skip curfew..."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," the Professor said, waving a hand dismissively. "I asked Catherina to have your parole extended for another two weeks whilst you and Hugue help me with this research."

"You mean I got another two weeks free?" exclaimed Leon in delight. "That's great, Proff, thanks! You hear that, Hugue? We get to spend some more time together!"

"I heard," Hugue said tonelessly.

"Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to start setting up to crack that crystal," William said. "And you two need to visit Sister Kate for me."

With a grin that would have made a Cheshire cat envious, Leon threw the Professor a mock salute and such was his glee that he didn't even complain when Hugue wordlessly handed the wrapped sandwiches to William and led the way back out into the Vatican.

oOo

Catherina's bedroom was warm and yet still the Cardinal huddled her thin frame beneath three thickly embroidered quilts, her sleeping robe pulled tight around her shoulders. The windows had been left wide open to allow the late afternoon sun to fall across her bed as she read. Currently her hand was holding her place in the book as she rested her head back against the headboard and enjoyed the feel of the sun on her cheek. Beside her Tres sat on a bedside chair reciting the sights he had seen whilst on the mission to Albion.

"...the bridge is a rebuilding of a much older structure destroyed during the bombings of the last war. It has been styled on the photographic records kept in the central library and the work took some five years, three months and four days to complete."

His voice was monotone, dull, full of the specifications and terminology that his cyborg mind relied upon. Nonetheless, Catherina listened raptly to him, her thoughts far away in a city she had only heard tales of. She smiled as he came to the end of his recital and sat waiting for her questions.

"Did Abel like it?" she asked eventually.

Tres paused before replying. "Father Nightroad gave no indication of discomfort during our visit to the bridge. He remarked at length upon the river below and voiced an inclination towards obtaining passage upon one of the smaller pleasure vessels."

"Did you?"

"Negative. Mission funding did not include the payment of tariffs for non-essential journeys."

Catherina smiled softly. "Tell me then, how is the other mission that I gave you proceeding?"

Tres nodded once. "I have been able to confirm with 94 certainty that Father Nightroad is undergoing an elevated level of emotional response to current situational stresses, however I have been unable to ascertain the cause of such a response or to isolate the factors involved."

Catherina paused for a long time, considering how to phrase her next question. "Do you consider him a danger to himself?" she asked eventually.

Tres blinked. "Negative," he replied.

"That is a relief to hear," she said softly. "Tell me then, what makes you think there is still something wrong?"

"Father Nightroad continues to sleep less than three hours a night. His required minimum for full functionality is five hours and his optimum is seven hours. In the past he has only exhibited such an atypical sleep pattern when he is undergoing heightened emotional stress. Furthermore, he has allowed himself to become intoxicated on a single occasion which is anomalous in that his usual intake of alcoholic beverages is limited to formal occasions only."

"Abel got drunk?" Catherina's eyes flicked open, her head turning to regard Tres.

"Positive."

"With who?"

"Father Leon de Garcia."

Slowly, Catherina sat back. "I see," she replied. "Did Abel say anything to you afterwards?"

Quickly, the cyborg related the few sentences that he had exchanged with the other father on their walk back to the hotel. Catherina made him repeat the bit about the central database, and then when he reached the part about Abel mentioning a 'task' he had set himself, she made him repeat that bit twice until she was satisfied.

"And so...you have not managed to implement a solution yet?" she asked.

"Negative. Insufficient data."

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her cheek and hearing the tolling of the cathedral bells in the distance marking the hour. On the mantelpiece the clock joined in the chiming, its light voice offsetting the dull tolling of the grandfather clock down the hall.

"I want you to act as his support, Tres," Catherina said. "I want you to be there for him to remind him that he is not alone in the dark. To be his anchor to all the things he holds dear. He will allow you to be that, I know he will."

It occurred to Tres then that he was not the most suitable agent for this task. It struck him that the Professor, or the Iron Maiden, or Mistress would all, with their various talents and human experience, be far more suited to the undertaking of such a delicate task. And yet...and yet the Cardinal most certainly already knew this and had still chosen to assign the task to him. He considered the implications of that and took time to gauge the resources available to him.

After all, Tres never failed his mistress.

"Affirmative," he said.

oOo

The corridors of the Iron Maiden were dark save for where Abel trod. Each ten metre segment lit up as he approached, then fell dark again as he moved on, the battleship's internal power monitoring system ever vigilant to its economic functioning. It gave an eerie feel to the place that would have affected him more had the memory of the colonies and the colony ships not been so ingrained in him.

He made his way up to the central control centre alone, with no ghostly companion to accompany him and the lack of a greeting made him wonder if perhaps he was intruding. By the time he had reached the double blast doors leading to the heart of the battleship's nervous system, he had almost convinced himself to turn back. But then the blast doors whisked open through no command of his own, and the glow from beyond caught his attention far more than the movement of the doors had. Smiling a little wryly to himself, he stepped inside.

Sister Kate lay recumbent amidst a web of wire and light, glowing fibres feeding into her skin like nerves that had grown out instead of in. Her skin was pale, that small part of it not covered by cybernetic plating and datajacks, and her eyes, still those of a young girl, were open, staring endlessly up into the shadows of the ceiling. Abel knew that what she saw went far beyond the stretch of mortal imagination, into the realm of data matrixes and algorithms, control systems and monitoring devices that gave her sight beyond human sight, but still. To see her eyes so pale and unblinking, and so very far away, made him wonder that he felt no horror and if such absence of feeling indicated yet again an absence of humanity in himself.

"Father Nightroad."

Her hologram flickered into existence at his side, a glowing techno-ghost that in centuries past might have been called an angel. It was only long exposure to her that kept him from jumping.

"Sister Kate," he smiled. Was it him, or did even her hologram look tired? How intuitive were the translation formulae that governed the conversion of electric impulses in her brain to the representation of self that hung in the air before him now?

"Abel, how can I help you?" she asked.

How indeed, he thought. Of all the mortals with whom he had become friends over the years, Sister Kate, with her sweet smile, her gentle wisdom and her will of steel had been the source of his greatest comfort in times of distress. He'd never told her that though, because it would have embarrassed her, but it remained true nonetheless. He had never spoken to her of his troubles either, had never confided in her his great burden and his awful past, and yet, she had always found the words to assuage his pain and lift the darkness that ever dimmed his vision without even needing to know those things. He suspected privately that she knew more of him than she let on, but that was a thought he could not bear to examine too closely.

He had come to the Iron Maiden seeking solace and an end to the constant buzz of self-recrimination; a friendly, down-to-earth mind to banish the darkness creeping amidst his thoughts. Looking at her now though, he wondered if perhaps he ought not to be offering her the same.

"Kate," he said gently. "Is everything all right?"

The hologram smiled, its hands folded neatly in front of it, and gave him a small bow.

"Yes, Father Nightroad."

They regarded each other in silence for a moment then, Abel unsure of what to say next and Kate patient, waiting him out.

"Is there anything you need, Father?" she asked him at length and he could read the hint in her voice.

"You're busy," he said, bowing slightly. "I shall leave you to continue. I apologise if I have disturbed you."

He smiled as he said the words, but still a look of distress flickered across her face.

"Oh no, Abel! Please don't go, it's not that I want you to go...it's just that...I'm sorry. I've been working so hard and I'm not getting anywhere."

Abel straightened, his face concerned. "You're still searching, aren't you?" he said softly.

Kate looked down at her feet, her face almost apologetic. "I know there's a cure for her out there somewhere. There has to be. The lost civilisations knew so much, they could do so much. Look at what Will did for me after the accident. If their technology was capable of this, then there has to be some way we can save Catherina."

Indeed. The smile that Abel put on his lips was only half lie. The people of today simply had no grasp of what the ancient technology had been capable of, and likewise, they had no real understanding of the complexity and requirements there were for its safe and flawless implementation. But still, it gave them hope to dream.

"We will always keep searching," he said to her with that same smile, and the hope it lit in her eyes made him hurt deep inside for his lies.

"Thank you, Abel," Kate said. "I know we can believe in you."

A pale, ghostly hand reached up as though she would touch his face, the computer program interpreting old physical impulses that could no longer be used. She hesitated a hairsbreadth from his cheek and it must have been his imagination that felt the warmth of her hand just before she drew it away.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, laughing a little. "Abel, did you want something? You came to see me."

Abel shook his head before he replied, still hearing the nervous shiver to her laughter. "No, Kate. I just came to make sure you were okay."

Her smile was warm, genuinely so, at his words. "I'm fine. I'm just busy. But I'm glad you came, it always makes me feel better to see you."

"Then that's good. I shall leave you in peace, I don't want to distract you."

He bowed to her as she nodded, and then turned to leave. The blast doors whisked open for him but before they could close, he stopped and turned to look back over his shoulder.

"I mean it, Kate. If there's any way, if there's any cure out there, we'll find it. I promise."

The last he saw of her before the doors slid closed again was her pale, serene smile.

oOo

Of all the humans that Tres had a close association with, other than the Cardinal de Sforza who had retired to bed some time ago, the cyborg reasoned that the one most suitable for him to begin his research with, was the Professor.

William Walter Wordsworth was in many ways the man responsible for Tres' existence and in a way, that made him the master to Catherina's mistress, though of course Tres' first and often it would seem, _only_ loyalty, was to the Cardinal herself.

As medic, programmer, and sometime mentor to the cyborg, Tres reasoned that the man would be a good place to start in order to gain advice from someone most likely to understand what the cyborg was asking and provide answers in terms the cyborg could relate to.

And so that evening, once he had seen Catherina settled in bed and her guards safely posted, Tres made his way down to the Professor's study and knocked on the door. When he entered, responding to the Professor's voice, it was clear that the Professor had been expecting somebody, just not him.

"Ah, Tres! Good evening, how can I help you?" William said, tapping his pipe to settle the tobacco.

"Good evening, Professor," Tres replied.

"I didn't think you were due to be recharged until tomorrow morning," William said frowning. "Unless I have my dates wrong. You didn't sustain any damage on the Albion trip did you?"

"Negative, Professor. My internal power pack is scheduled to be recharged in fourteen hours and thirty-two minutes time and I have received no damage during the last mission."

"Right. Jolly good then. So, how can I help you?"

Now that he was faced with the question in such direct terms, Tres realised that he did not in fact know precisely how to ask. He could come straight out with it and ask a direct question, but that might reveal his mission to the Professor, and although Catherina had commanded that he not tell Abel about his plans, telling anyone else might eventually lead back to Father Nightroad hearing about them indirectly and Tres did not want to risk that.

Instead, he tried for subtlety.

"Who is the main support in your life?" he said.

The Professor blinked and stared at him. "I'm sorry?" he said.

"Who is the main support in your life?" Tres repeated.

"Ah...well," the Professor stumbled. "That depends on what you mean precisely."

Obviously, Tres reasoned, he was not using the correct terminology. "Who is the main source of your emotional wellbeing?"

Very carefully, the Professor set his pipe down on its stand and folded his arms across the table. "Why exactly do you ask, Tres?"

"I am doing research," the cyborg replied, and then, when William continued to stare at him, "For a project."

"I see..." said the Professor thoughtfully. "Well, there's many people that influence me. Many whose advice and company I value and some to whom I turn when I have a particular problem. But...as for emotional wellbeing, I suppose once upon a time, that would have been my wife."

The sad smile that touched the Professor's face dissolved as there came a sharp rapping at the door. The Professor hesitated for a moment and then with an apologetic glance at Tres, called the visitor in. It turned out to be two visitors, Leon and Hugue to be precise and seeing the two priests enter, Tres decided quickly that any further questions for the Professor would have to be postponed to a later date. Excusing himself, he let himself back out into the corridor leaving the three priests to stare after him.

"What was that all about?" Leon asked, seating himself in front of the Professor's desk.

"Ah...nothing," the Professor said in a tone of voice that indicated it hadn't been nothing at all. "Did you get the cipher crystal from Kate?"

Leon laughed as Hugue drew the small object from his pocket and set it on the Professor's desk. "Yeah, we got it," he said. "But she didn't half give us an earful about it. You need to go talk to her sometime Professor, she almost wouldn't give it to us. Said you should have come in person."

William winced as he picked the crystal up. "Yes, I know. I'll pay her a visit tomorrow morning."

"She needs it," Hugue said quietly. "She is distraught over Catherina's collapse today."

"I think we were all a little shaken up by that," the Professor sighed as he slipped the crystal into his pocket. "Speaking of which, you two gentlemen didn't happen to notice Tres, ah, acting strangely whilst you were in Albion, did you?"

The two blank stares he received in return were answer enough. "I didn't think so. It's just that, well, Tres was asking some very strange questions just now."

"Really?" Leon said. "Such as?"

"Well, he asked me who the main provider of my emotional support and wellbeing was!" the Professor replied.

"And what did you say?" Hugue asked curiously.

"Well, I didn't really have time to say anything as you turned up just then. But...well, I suppose I did mention that once upon a time, it would have been my wife."

The three priests blinked at one another and for a long time nobody said anything. Then suddenly, Leon cocked his head to one side.

"Hey, you don't reckon..." he trailed off.

"I don't think..." the Professor said uncertainly. "I can't see how he would..."

"But why would be asking otherwise?" Leon said.

"But he's not programmed to be an emotional support to anyone," the Professor replied. "I don't think, due to his programming, that he actually _can_ be. And besides, who on earth would he be trying to act as a support to?"

"Catherina," Hugue said softly. "She is the focus of his entire existence. For her, he would do anything."

The three priests exchanged long, amazed looks.

"Hey," said Leon after a while. "You don't think he's in _love_ with her do you?"

For a long time, they just stared at each other.

"Well," said the Professor finally. "Well, I'll be..."

oOo

Tres was patrolling the corridors as he took time to evaluate the Professor's brief answer to his question. His mentor had named his wife as the one-time provider of his emotional support, and that made sense to the cyborg. It did not however, give him any real explanation of how to go about providing such support to Abel. What he needed, was a wife to talk to. Unfortunately however, in this situation, Tres was not familiar with anybody fitting that marital status.

He was however, familiar with several females. And out of all the females he knew, it occurred to him that due to her innate abilities, there was one female that stood out from the rest as being the most likely woman to be of assistance. He would seek her out and question her.

The decision made, Tres set out across the Vatican in search of Mistress.


End file.
